SEEING EUROPE BY AUTOMOBILE 



SEEING EUROPE 
BY AUTOMOBILE 



A FIVE-THOUSAND-MILE MOTOR 
TRIP THROUGH FRANCE, 
SWITZERLAND, GERMANY, AND 
ITALY; WITH AN EXCURSION 
INTO ANDORRA, CORFU, 
DALMATIA, AND MONTENEGRO 

BY 
LEE MERIWETHER 

Author of "A Tramp Trip; How to See Europe on Fifty Cents 

a Day," "The Tramp at Home," "Afloat and Ashore 

on the Mediterranean" "A Lord's Courtship," Etc. 



NEW YORK 

THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 

1911 






0^ 



COPYBIGHT 1911, BY 

THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 
Published Apbil, 1911 






Pbess op William G. Hewitt 
Bbooklyn, New York 



© GL A 



TO 

WHO SHARED WITH ME THE GET-THEBE'S 

ADVENTURES, AND WHO FOR FIFTEEN 

YEARS HAS BEEN THE SUNBEAM 

OF MY LIFE, THIS BOOK 

IS DEDICATED 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER 



PAGR 



I Buying the Get-There 1 

II The Road to Rouen 15 

III At the Gates of Paris 34 

IV Off for Normandy 53 

V The Chateau Country 72 

VI From Blois to Versailles 92 

VII A Day with Rousseau 108 

VIII The Road to Rheims 133 

IX From Valmy to Nancy 154 

X The German Tour Begins 172 

XI Through German Cities 195 

XII The Rhine Country 217 

XIII Into Switzerland 235 

XIV Over the Alps 256 

XV The Smallest Republic 280 

XVI The Get-There in Italy 303 

XVII Rome and Coast Cities 321 

XVIII Hints for Motorists 337 

XIX Across the Adriatic 358 

XX Montenegro and Journey's Ending 373 

Appendix 391 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAGE 

The View from Kastrades, in Corfu, was Surpassingly 
Lovely Frontispiece 

Hoisting Our Maxwell Out of the Steamer's Hold at 

Havre 8 : 

The Get-There on the Main Boulevard of Havre, just after 

being Unloaded from the Steamer 12 ^ 

A Windmill in Normandy 22 u 

It was through this Door that Joan of Arc was Conducted 

to Torture 28 " 

The Clock Tower in Rouen: We Stopped the Get-There 
Here and Lunched on Strawberries, Bread and Cheese. 32 

A Corner in the Court of the Inn of William the Con- 
queror 60 

The Get-There Approaching Mont Michel : The Spectre 

Windmill is a Trick of the Camera 70 L " 

From St. Malo We Looked Down on the City's Narrow 
Streets 74 

The Chateau at Angers: the Walls are Fifteen Feet Thick. 78 

The Chateau of Amboise, where Twelve Hundred Huguenots 
were Butchered for the Amusement of the Court 88 

The Get-There about to Enter a German Village 172 

A German Building of the Middle Ages: Note the Four- 
Storied Roof 182 

The Vocation of Chimney Sweep is Still Pursued: One 
Stands beside our Automobile 202 

The Rathshaus of Ulm is One of Germany's Most Interest- 
ing Buildings 210 

All Germany is Airship Mad 218 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAQB 

\ 

Lunching on the Roadside in France 238 

The Entrance to Besancon, Victor Hugo's Birthplace, is a 
Crevice in a Huge Rock 244 

As We Reached a Higher Altitude the Scenery Became 

More Wild and Rugged 250 

The Alps: Beamer in a Cool Spot on a Hot Surunier Day. 26G 

Entrevaux: Neither Gate nor Bridge was Wide Enough 
for the Get-There ■. 274 

A Fort Surmounts the Lofty Peak Overlooking the Pic- 
turesque Town that Borders the River Var 27S 

A Broad Flight of Steps Leads to the Highest Street in the 

Deserted Town of Sospello 280 

A Street in Ancient Ax: Note the Stairs 282 ' 

The People of L'Hospitalet Bidding Us Bon Voyage to 

Andorra 284 

The Leaning Tower of Pisa Looked as if it were about to 

Fall upon the Get-There 312 

The Get-There Looks Puny and Insignificant beneath the 
Massive Walls of the Colosseum 322 

Isle of Lacroma, Adriatic Sea: The Cliff from which the 

Romans Used to Hurl Traitors 362 

Lacroma: In this Palace, Now a Monastery, Maximilian 

Dwelt before He Set Forth to Conquer Mexico 366 

Gravosa, the Port of Ragusa: We Disembarked at this 
Charming Place and Drove in a Carriage to Ragusa. . 370 

Although it was a Sunday Morning the Streets of Ragusa 
were Thronged with Busy People Driving their Bar- 
gains 374 

A View of Lake Skodra 386 



SEEING EUROPE BY AUTOMOBILE 



Seeing Europe by Automobile 



CHAPTER I 

We decide to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of my 
Tramp Trip by traversing the same route in an automobile. 
— I buy the "Get-There."— Arrival at Havre. 

A QUARTER of a century ago my worldly 
goods amounted to just two hundred dol- 
lars, but I had youth, good health and a well-devel- 
oped love of adventure; accordingly, despite the 
pathetically small dimensions of my bank account, 
I set forth to see the world. And I saw it, at any 
rate the best part of it. Taking steerage passage 
in an Italian tramp steamer I landed in Gibraltar 
one March morning twenty-five years ago, and 
spent a year in walking through nearly every coun- 
try between that big rock and the Bosporus. Many 
a night the ground was my bed and the sky my 
covering; and a little macaroni, washed down by 
two cents' worth of red wine, was the extent of 
my average meal — certainly not luxury, but youth 
cares little for hardship when the simple life means 

seeing the world ! 

l 



2 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

I did not mind sleeping on the ground when I 
could not find a place in a workingman 's home, nor 
did I object to macaroni; on the contrary, armed 
as I was with boyish health and a boundless capac- 
ity for enjoyment, I thought that first look out into 
the world the grandest journey ever taken. 

As the twenty-fifth anniversary of my Tramp 
Trip approached the idea occurred to me that it 
would be interesting to take the same trip again, 
only this time to make it by automobile instead of 
afoot. If it had been such sport plodding along at 
the rate of three miles an hour, how much more 
delightful would it be leisurely to motor through 
those countries so rich in history and scenery, and 
with roads as smooth and as firm as a billiard 
board! 

But the expense? Would such a trip be within 
the means of a professional man with a modest, 
an all too modest, law practice? That was the 
question ; and now that I have taken the trip and 
am able to answer that question candor requires 
the statement that motoring abroad is quite expen- 
sive enough; it is not the way to see Europe on 
fifty cents a day, as I saw it on my Tramp Trip a 
quarter of a century ago. But neither is it any- 
thing like as expensive as is commonly supposed; 
in a later chapter I shall give some figures and 
practical suggestions as to how to take an automo- 
bile to Europe, and the cost of operating one after 



Buying the Get-There 3 

getting it there. For the present, however, let it 
only be said that the more I thought of that twen- 
ty-fifth anniversary the more the idea of dupli- 
cating it in an automobile appealed to me, with 
the result that finally I told Beamer — that is what 
I call my wife — to get ready, that I was decided 
to go. 

We arrived in New York one week before the 
steamer sailed ; that time, though short, sufficed to 
buy an automobile and to equip it for the trip. 
The Get-There, as we called our car, not because 
that was its name, but because it always got us to 
whatever place we wished to reach, was a two- 
seated, four-cylinder 28 h.-p. roadster, with a fold- 
ing seat in the rear which on occasion could com- 
fortably hold two persons. The rear seat, how- 
ever, was seldom used. It was folded flat, making 
a spacious deck upon which was bolted a large 
trunk. When unlocked the rear end of the trunk 
opened downward, exposing to view three drawers 
which slid in and out like the drawers of a 
bureau. This arrangement was planned so as to 
avoid the necessity of taking the entire trunk off 
of the automobile; on reaching the end of a day's 
run the particular drawer required could be taken 
out and sent up to our room. Each drawer was 
eight inches deep, thirty inches long and twenty- 
four inches wide — considerably larger than the 
largest suit case. 



4 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

A round tire trunk within the two extra tires 
on the right running board carried wraps and 
inner tubes; on the left running board was 
strapped a light, roomy fiber box with a telescope 
top, which, when raised to the limit, gave the box 
a depth of eighteen inches. On the top of the fiber 
box was a suit case, and on top of that was a hand 
grip for books, maps and such articles as would be 
needed from moment to moment while riding. 
Being on a level with her seat and just to her left, 
Beamer could reach into this grip and get what 
was wanted without my having to stop the motor. 
Next to the fiber box on the running board was 
strapped a lunch basket containing three Thermos 
bottles, knives, forks and dishes, and boxes for 
cold meats and for bread; on the rear deck be- 
tween the trunk and the front seat was a ten-inch 
space for steamer blankets, rubber robes, umbrel- 
las and a bag containing cans of extra oil and 
gasoline. 

All this made the Get-There look like a gypsy 
wagon ; it also made some agility necessary in get- 
ting into and out of our seats, but these drawbacks 
were more than compensated for by the fact that 
we did not have to stint ourselves in clothing and 
in articles of travel, nor did we have to forward 
any luggage by rail. With all our belongings be- 
side us there was a freedom, an independence not 
otherwise possible. We never felt obliged to go to 



Buying the Get-There & 

any particular place in order to get a bag or a 
trunk; we were free to go absolutely whither the 
spirit prompted. Although the morning might find 
us going east, the afternoon would see us west- 
wardbound if that way lay an unusually pictur- 
esque road or an unexpectedly interesting ruin or 
castle. Uncertainty as to what is coming next, as 
to where nightfall will find you, lends a charm that 
is absent where your trip is ' l cut and dried, ' ' where 
you know all along just where you are going and 
what you are going to see. 

The automobile equipped, we drove it to a mill- 
wright's on Hudson Street to be cased, then it was 
shoved onto a big truck and hauled to the French 
Line's pier, where a derrick hoisted the huge box 
onto the steamship Chicago's deck as quickly and 
as easily as if it had been a five-pound box of 
candy. Next morning we took passage on the same 
steamer, and nine days later we were at anchor a 
mile off the coast of France. The month was July 
and the heat in New York had been intense, but 
there was no heat when the passengers crowded on 
the Chicago's decks to look at Havre's high bluffs 
and at the villas on those bluffs silhouetted against 
the cold, gray sky; some of those villas, frescoed 
in bright colors, looked against that leaden sky as 
if they were flat and unreal, like the houses of thea- 
ter scenery on a stage. In the cold, drizzling rain 
that was falling we had almost to pinch ourselves 



6 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

to realize that we were in midsummer off the coast 
of "sunny" France, and not in November off the 
coast of Nova Scotia. The voyage across the 
Atlantic had been over smooth seas with delightful, 
balmy weather up to within the last two days of 
the journey; this had lulled the fears of most of 
the passengers, and their furs and wraps had been 
carefully packed away. And now bitterly was that 
misplaced confidence regretted as they shivered 
there on the Chicago's decks waiting for a tender 
to come and carry them ashore. 

One hundred and twenty-two years ago, when 
Arthur Young rode into Havre on the blind mare 
for which he paid twenty-three guineas, he made 
this entry in his diary : 

"Havre, Aug. 16, 1788. — The harbor's mouth is narrow and 
formed by a mole, but it enlarges into two oblong basins of 
greater breadth. These are full of ships to the number of 
some hundreds, and the quays around are thronged with busi- 
ness — all hurry, bustle and animation. They say a fifty-gun 
ship can enter, but I suppose without her guns. What is bet- 
ter, they have merchantmen of five hundred and even of six 
hundred tons! " 

How that observing English squire would open 
his eyes could he see the Havre of to-day ! Those 
basins which so excited his wonder because they 
floated ships of five hundred tons, and which now 
float twenty-thousand-ton steamers, have engaged 
the attention of French governments and engi- 
neers for the past two hundred and fifty years, and 



Buying the Get-There 7 

they are constantly being improved and enlarged. 
We saw the President of France stand on a plat- 
form in the Place Gambetta in Havre and talk to 
fifty thousand people about a new basin which had 
just been completed and which the President had 
come from Paris to open. The basins, some of 
them seventy acres in extent, reach out into the city 
in various directions, so that there is presented the 
curious contrast of great steamships side by side 
with hotels and office buildings. It is as if the 
Hudson River were opened up into Fifth Avenue 
so that a Cunard steamer could lie alongside the 
Waldorf-Astoria. Only at high tide, however, can 
vessels enter the basins ; consequently the Chicago, 
having the ill-luck to arrive at low tide, was obliged 
to anchor a mile out at sea and send her passen- 
gers ashore on a tender. 

The minute we stepped ashore the fact that 
France was about to celebrate her Fourth of July 
was everywhere apparent — ribbons, streamers, 
flags, were flying from every window, while miles 
of wire for electric lights gave promise of the 
illumination in store. The French do not cele- 
brate their Fourth by making hideous noises and 
by killing or maiming thousands of children, but 
they do take a little more wine than usual ; at any 
rate, we were told that for a day or two following 
the Fourteenth of July French workingmen are 
seldom in trim to do any work, consequently that 



8 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

we would have to wait until the end of the week 
before we could get the Get-There. Having no 
wish to remain in Havre, we at once consulted a 
shipping agent. The agent said it was impossible 
to get an automobile on the same day a steamer 
landed, but when we replied in that case we would 
consult another agent the impossible suddenly be- 
came possible. The agent called a cab and the next 
four hours were spent in going from one 
"Douane" (Customs) office to another. Just what 
it was all about we did not understand. We obe- 
diently signed and swore to an assortment of 
papers and documents, stuck before us by the 
agent, then at last he exclaimed : 

"Voila, Monsieur, c'est fini! (it is finished !) You 
have but to present these papers and pay the duty 
and your automobile will be released.' ' 

The tide was now up and the Chicago was float- 
ing in one of the large basins alongside a quay in 
the heart of the city. It took but a few minutes to 
drive there and produce the papers which we had 
been signing, whereupon permission was given to 
unbox the Get-There. Men were close by waiting 
for the job, and in half an hour, accompanied by a 
soldier, we were in our automobile on the way to 
the main Custom House, where a polite official, 
after weighing the Get-There and making an in- 
ventory of its number, seating capacity, color, etc., 
handed us the following certificate : 



Buying the Get-There 9 

"Une voiture automobile No. 9556, moteur en carosserie, 
4 cylindres, chassis et carosserie rouges; bandages pneu- 
matiques, 4 places, 3 lanternes, 2 phares, pesant net 1,128 
kilos. Le droit Fr. 676.80." 

"Preserve this inventory and this receipt," said 
the official after we had handed him the six hun- 
dred and seventy-six francs, "and the duty you 
have just paid will be refunded at the frontier 
station where you finally leave France. C'est tout, 
Monsieur (that is all, sir). You are at liberty to 
go." 

Yes, we might go so far as he was concerned, 
but another important formality remained — a per- 
mit to "circulate" in France had to be obtained. 
To secure this permit written application must be 
made in French, on stamped paper, addressed to 
"M. le Ministere des Travaux Publics, Paris." 
In due time, usually two weeks, this dignitary 
sends an official to examine the applicant's ability 
as a chauffeur. When the official reports to the 
minister "des Travaux Publics" how much, or 
how little, the applicant knows about automobiles 
some more red tape is unwound, and after a while, 
if he is lucky, he gets his license to operate a motor 
car in France. 

This, the usual routine, may do for the man who 
lives in Paris and wants a permit to motor next 
year, but it is not a good method for the man 
whose time is limited and wants to motor now. 



10 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

The idea of passing several weeks in Havre while 
waiting for a chauffeur's license had not appealed 
to us, accordingly several months before leaving 
St. Louis we wrote a letter to the Prefet of Police 
at Havre, asking him to help us expedite matters. 
It is no part of the Prefet 's duty to attend to such 
cases, but with true French courtesy the Havre 
official sent me a letter of application written in 
French, accompanied by a note stating if I would 
return it to him with my signature and photo- 
graph (postage-stamp size) he would have the 
permit ready upon our arrival at Havre. Just 
how he was able at such long range (it is some 
four thousand miles from St. Louis to Havre) to 
determine my ability as a chauffeur I do not know, 
nor did I think it discreet to inquire. 

In the letter which the Prefet sent for me to 
sign I was made to give my address as No. 42 
Eue de Montivilliers, Le Havre, and to that ad- 
dress we drove as soon as the customs formalities 
were completed. A subordinate of the Prefet lived 
there and had our permit ready; the photograph 
sent from St. Louis was pasted on the upper cor- 
ner and the certificate set forth that, having been 
duly examined, Monsieur Lee Meriwether was au- 
thorized to " circulate' ' over the roads of France. 
Eealizing that foreign motorists leave money in 
France, French officials facilitate their entrance 
into the country and waive formalities which in 



Buying the Get-There 11 

the case of residents are insisted upon. This is 
deemed so perfectly proper that there is no harm 
in mentioning the courtesy extended to us, and it 
may even be useful to give a copy of the letter 
which gained us this favor. The reader who pur- 
poses motoring in France will find that a letter 
modeled on ours will answer his purpose, even if 
our French is a bit shaky as to grammar and spell- 
ing. Of course, the date and port of arrival must 
be altered to suit. Here is the letter: 

, St. Louis, 29 Mars, 1909. 

A Monsieur le Preset du Department de la Seine InfSrieure, 
Le Havre, France. 

Monsieur le Prefet: — 

J'espere arriver au Havre le douze Juillet prochain avec 
mon automobile. J'ai entendu dire que souvent on etait 
oblige d'attendre au Havre une semaine avant d'avoir un per- 
mis de circulation et un brevet de capacite. 

Comme mes vacances seront tres courtes je ne voudrais pas 
etre oblige de rester longtemps dans votre ville, et je vous 
serais reconnaissant de me dire s'il n'est pas possible de faire 
en sorte que je puisse avoir ces permis le jour meme de mon 
arrivee au Havre. Je crois savoir, qu'il est necessaire de faire 
une application sur papier timbre; s'il est vrai qu'on est oblige 
d'attendre apres remise de cette application, ne pouvez 
vous pas me faire parvenir le papier timbre necessaire contre 
un mandat international? 

Veuillez me dire, alors, si je vous adresse mon application 
en avance, s'il me sera possible d'avoir mes permis le jour de 
mon arrivee? 

Agreez, Monsieur le Prefet, l'assurance de ma parfaite con- 
sideration. 

Lee Merjwetheb. 



12 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

(Translation.) 

St. Louis, March 29, 1909. 
To the Prefect of the Department, The Lower Seine, 

Havre, France. 
Dear Sir: — 

I expect to arrive at Havre the 12th of next July with my 
automobile. I have heard that often one is obliged to wait a 
week at Havre before receiving a permit to drive an auto- 
mobile. 

As my vacation is short I should not like to remain a long 
time in your city and I shall be greatly obliged by your letting 
me know if it is not possible in some way to secure a permit 
on the same day of my arrival. I understand it is necessary 
to make an application upon stamped paper; if this is true 
can you not furnish me the necessary stamped paper upon my 
forwarding you a postoffice money order to cover cost of same? 
Will you inform me, therefore, in case I forward my appli- 
cation in advance, whether it will be possible to obtain the 
permit on the day I arrive in Havre? 

Yours respectfully, 

Lee Meriwether. 

Though we made record time in getting the Get- 
There from the steamer and through the custom 
house, and in securing a license, still it was late in 
the afternoon before we left my " domicile' ' at 
No. 42 Eue de Montivilliers with the license in my 
pocket and number plates fastened both in the 
front and rear of our automobile; so we deferred 
our departure until the next day and spent what 
remained of the afternoon in motoring about 
Havre. 

A very steep, but a very smooth and beautiful 
boulevard winds up the back of the city, and from 
the high points of this street, which is lined with 





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Buying the Get-There IB 

handsome villas and gardens, we not only looked 
down upon the city of Havre, but also across the 
estuary of the Seine upon the pavilions and hotels 
of Trouville, that gay bathing place which is only 
a few miles from Havre, but which we were to 
reach only after a three-hundred-mile drive. For 
we were to motor up to Paris on one side of the 
Seine, cross on a bridge, then motor down the 
other side of the Seine back to the Atlantic coast, 
a distance of three hundred miles. 

The evening passed pleasantly in the Casino of 
the Hotel Frascati watching people playing "Les 
petits chevaux" — a lot of little tin horses on 
wheels, which a croupier whirled around a circle 
on a green-covered table. It seemed a rather child- 
ish amusement for grown-up men and women, but 
it certainly did amuse that crowd at the Frascati ; 
they seemed as absorbed in those tin horses as 
though their fortunes were at stake, as indeed they 
were in some instances, for some were wagering 
large amounts upon these lilliputian make-believe 
races. From the tin horses the men and women 
would go to the cafe and order queer-colored 
drinks served in long, thin glasses ; with each drink 
the waiter placed on the table a saucer upon which 
was printed the price* of the refreshment served — 
a good way to keep the score, providing dishonest 
patrons do not slip a saucer or two in their pockets 
and so destroy the accuracy of the count. 



14 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Apart from the life in the cafes and on the 
streets, and the big basins which make of the city 
one of the finest and busiest seaports in France, 
there is little to see in Havre. Because of this 
fact, and because, too, we meant to make an early 
start in the morning, we left the Casino and the 
little tin horses and their crowd of players, men 
in evening dress yet with tan shoes and straw 
hats, women in the extremest kind of decollete 
gowns, and returned to our room, where we soon 
lay dreaming of the delightful ride that was to be 
taken on the morrow. 



CHAPTER II 

The Road to Rouen. — Prosperity of the peasants. — A mug of 
Normandy cider at the old windmill. — Gasoline more ex- 
pensive than wine. — The Rouen octroi. — Inn of the Bons 
Enfants. — The spot where Joan of Arc was burned. 

HH HE clouds, which had lifted in the afternoon 
^ long enough to afford us a noble view from 
the heights back of Havre, gathered again during 
the night, and when we awoke on the morning of 
the day before France's great holiday the weather 
was another imitation of a November day in Nova 
Scotia. However, the sun finally came out, and 
two o 'clock in the afternoon saw us on our way. 

The road to Rouen seemed to us that day the 
finest road in all the world; we afterwards found 
that most French roads are perfect, or nearly so. 
But this was our first experience with the French 
type, also the memory of our rutty, muddy Ameri- 
can highways was only ten days old ; consequently 
to us that particular French road will ever stand 
for the most perfect road in the world. And, in 
truth, even at the end of our trip of more than 
five thousand miles, in half a dozen different Eu- 
ropean states, we are unable to point to any better 

15 



16 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

road; roads amid grander scenery, yes — in Swit- 
zerland everywhere, in France from Grenoble to 
Nice — but, above all, that marvelous road to 
Cetinje, hewn zigzag in the face of the stupendous 
precipice which rises a sheer six thousand feet 
above Cattaro on the Dalmatian shore of the Adri- 
atic. All these, and perhaps many others, excel in 
scenic effect. But considering just the road itself, 
its perfect construction, its firm, smooth surface 
stretching mile after mile between two rows of 
stately trees, their boughs almost meeting over- 
head, shading the traveler from the hottest sum- 
mer sun — considering merely this viewpoint, we 
still think of that long, white ribbon between 
Havre and Eouen as quite the finest highway in 
the world. 

Every few hundred yards little piles of broken 
rock are heaped up on the roadside and every mile 
or two of road has its special caretaker who makes 
frequent inspections; if there is a hole, however 
small, it is at once filled with rocks and hammered 
smooth. If a twig falls from the trees overhead, 
it is brushed into a bag which the caretaker car- 
ries. Not once on the whole way to Rouen did we 
run over a rock or a stick as big as a man's thumb. 
Even when our motor speeded up to a rate of fifty 
miles an hour, there was less vibration than one 
experiences at half that rate on the best American 
road. Of course, we did not maintain that speed 



The Road to Rouen 17 

for any great distance ; our purpose was to see the 
country, not to break any records, or our necks 
either, so for the most part we jogged along at the 
dignified rate of twenty or twenty-five miles an 
hour, and even this was lessened when we came to 
stretches of road along the Seine, where the 
scenery is perhaps as pleasing as anywhere in 
France. So many Americans pass that way that 
the people were not nearly as interested in us as 
we were in them. One old woman whom we met 
was in a small cart drawn by a donkey not much 
larger than a calf; as we approached, the donkey 
deliberately turned broadside across the road, bar- 
ring our passage. While Beamer kodaked the 
peasant and her cart and donkey, I got down and 
led the obstinate beast to one side of the road; then 
I asked the woman if she would not like to> come 
with us to America. Had I asked her to go to the 
moon she would not have looked more disgusted. 
No, indeed, France was good enough for her, and 
she urged her donkey forward as if fearing we 
had the evil design of taking her away to our 
heathen land. 

In the villages we noted that lessons in history 
are contained in the namos of the streets — Eue 
Victor Hugo, 1803-1885; Eue Jeanne d'Arc, 1412- 
1431, etc. The names include those of all sorts of 
historical personages, and the dates of their birth 
and death are shown in brackets under the names. 



18 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

With this information on every street lamp-post, 
there is little excuse in France for not knowing at 
least the names of illustrious Frenchmen, and 
when they were born and when they died. 

After the perfection of the road and the beauty 
of the scenery the thing that most impressed us on 
that ride through Normandy was the absence of 
anything like poverty or distress. The people 
seemed happy and prosperous — very different 
from the French peasant of the seventeenth cen- 
tury whom the philosopher La Bruyere described 
as a " strange animal, dark yet pallid in skin, half- 
clothed and sunburnt, bound to the soil which he 
dug and turned over with invincible obstinacy.' ' 

The French peasant of the seventeenth century 
was a veritable brother to the ox, and a stepbrother 
at that; for the ox received some attention, some 
care — the peasant received none. But his modern 
descendant is a different sort of fellow. The par- 
cel of ground which the peasant of to-day occupies 
may be a small one, but it is his, and this alone is 
enough to account for the conservatism of rural 
France. The cities have their agitators, their so- 
cialists, their reformers ready to make of earth a 
heaven by the simple expedient of adopting their 
particular panacea ; but the peasant will have none 
of these. He has no use for any reform that will 
dislodge him from his patch of ground. And so, 
being now a citizen with as good a vote as Mon- 



The Road to Rouen 19 

sieur le Marquis or M. le Due, it is the peasant of 
France who furnishes the balance wheel, who keeps 
the republic out of dangerous entanglements, who 
vetoes schemes of military glory and political re- 
venge. Incidentally, this individual ownership of 
land makes the plain Frenchman out on the fields 
of France forget the horrors of the great revolu- 
tion, for he knows it is to that revolution that he 
owes the ownership of the ground on which he 
lives. 

The valley on both sides of the Seine is one con- 
tinuous garden ; every acre is cultivated ; the little 
homes of the peasants are clean and comfortable, 
many of them even picturesque — a vivid contrast 
to the France of 1787, as pictured in Arthur 
Young's celebrated diary. At one point, where 
the road ran for a long distance close to the bank 
of the Seine, we stopped the Get-There under the 
shade of a tree and alternately looked out on the 
beautiful France of to-day; and then, in the pages 
of Young's book, we looked out on the unhappy 
France of one hundred and twenty years ago. 
Here is a sample of the flashlight which the Eng- 
lish squire 's diary throws on that troubled period : 

"Walking up a long hill to ease my mare, I was joined by 
a poor woman who complained of the times; she said her hus- 
band had hut a morsel of land, one cow and a poor little horse, 
yet they had forty-two pounds of wheat and three chickens to 
pay as quit rent to one seigneur, and 168 pounds of oats, one 
chicken and one shilling to pay to another, besides very heavy 



20 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

tailles and other taxes. She had seven children and the cow's 
milk helped to make the soup. * * * At no great distance the 
woman might have been taken for sixty or seventy, her figure 
was so bent, her face so hardened by labor, but she said she 
was only twenty-eight. * * * The women work harder than 
the men and this, united with the more miserable labor of 
bringing a new race of slaves into the world, destroys abso- 
lutely all symmetry of person and of feminine appearance." 

After reading this description of the French 
peasant of 1787 we wanted to get a near view of 
the French peasant of to-day; accordingly we 
stopped at the first honse we came to. It was built 
of stone, one story high, with a steep, thatched 
gable roof. Vines overran the walls. Near-by 
stood a windmill, with shingled sides and four 
giant arms revolving lazily in a gentle breeze. The 
peasant and his wife and the larger children 
were at work in the fields, but a girl of eight and a 
sturdy, red-cheeked boy of six were at home, and 
from the matter-of-fact way in which they received 
us it was plain they were not unaccustomed to the 
visit of motorists. Yes, they could give Monsieur 
and Madame a pitcher of cider — for seven sous the 
liter; and we might have " essence' ' (gasoline), 
too, only that cost more — nine sous the liter. We 
did not need any gasoline, having filled the Get- 
There 's tank at Havre; neither did we need any 
cider; we had sampled that famed Normandy bev- 
erage and found it not at all to our liking. Never- 
theless, we ordered both cider and essence, for we 



The Road to Rouen 21 

wanted an excuse to linger before that quaint cot- 
tage, in the shade of that curious old windmill. 

"Why do you charge more for essence than for 
cider V 9 we asked the little maid, whereat she 
smiled at our simplicity. 

"Because, Monsieur, it costs my father more. 
The essence comes from America and pays a tax ; 
the cider we make on the farm : there is no tax on 
it." 

Before our trip ended we found the tax question 
everywhere in Europe an important item in motor- 
ing. In Germany good old Munich beer costs only 
six cents the liter, whereas benzine, as the Ger- 
mans call gasoline, costs from ten to fifteen cents 
the liter (a liter is a fraction more than a quart). 
In France you can get a liter of very good claret 
for eight cents, but for gasoline you pay as much 
as fifteen cents the liter, the price depending upon 
the city in which you buy it. The octroi tax of 
Paris is four cents the liter, and this, added to the 
government tax, makes the Paris price of essence 
high, from fourteen to eighteen cents the liter, or 
something like seventy cents a gallon. In rural 
regions, where there is no octroi tax, five-liter tin 
cans of essence (called "Bidons") are sold for 
from francs 1.80 to 2.25, or, approximately, thirty- 
five to forty-five cents a gallon. Among our other 
impedimenta was a gallon can of gasoline for 
emergency use, but only once on the whole trip 



22 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

(while ascending the mountain of the Grande Char- 
treuse) did any emergency arise; every time there 
was need for gasoline it was to be had close at 
hand at a hotel or chemist's, if we were in town, 
and at a peasant's house on the roadside, if we 
were in the country. 

The little miss in the thatched house by the old 
windmill wore wooden shoes, so did her little 
brother ; and both said they liked them — that they 
kept out the cold and wet. This was probably 
true, but to us it seemed that this advantage was 
more than offset by their unsightliness and clumsi- 
ness. 

At ^ve o'clock, while the sun was still high in 
the heavens, the Get-There was suddenly stopped 
by a closed gateway across the road. At first we 
thought it a toll-gate or a railway crossing, but it 
was only the octroi gate of Eouen. When we drew 
near, a man in uniform got up from the chair in 
which he was sitting near the closed gate, put his 
hand over his mouth to hide a yawn, and said: 

"Bon jour, Monsieur. Est-ce que vous avez 
quelque chose a declarer?" (have you anything to 
declare?) 

"men" (nothing). 

"Tres bien, Monsieur!" 

And the man in uniform suppressed another 
yawn as he opened the gate to let us pass. Accord- 
ing to the letter of the law, the gasoline in our 




A WINDMILL IN NORMANDY 



The Road to Rouen 23 

tank and the lunch in our basket were both subject 
to octroi tax, but with the one exception of Paris 
we were never bothered by octroi officers. Of 
course, they knew we had gasoline — the Get-There 
could not have moved an inch without it — but if 
all cities and towns followed Paris' example, mo- 
toring in France would be impossible. You pass 
through towns a dozen times a day, and it would 
be intolerably annoying, not to say expensive, were 
one obliged to have measurements made and pay 
a tax at the gate of every town entered. This is 
realized, and as there is no desire to prevent for- 
eigners from coming to France to spend their 
money, the question at city gates, ' ' Have you any- 
thing to declare V 9 is a mere formality. You an- 
swer "Rien," and the tax officer waves you into 
his town without even a pretense of examining 
your possessions. With home folks he is not so 
complacent. We have seen Frenchmen detained 
at a city gate while an officer poked around into all 
sorts of impossible places in the automobile, look- 
ing for chickens or a roast or something else sub- 
ject to the municipal tax. 

Rouen is a fairly big town. Even after entering 
its gates we had to go a couple of miles over stone- 
paved streets, not so smooth as the country road 
we had just traversed, but quite as good as the 
average asphalt street in an American city, before 
we drew up in front of the Hotel de Paris on the 



24 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

quai bordering the Seine. From the windows of 
our room we could see the fish boats unloading their 
morning's catch; we could also see the extraor- 
dinary platform, for it is a floating platform 
rather than a boat, Pont Transbordeur the French 
call it, which is used to ferry people back and forth 
across the river. The like of this arrangement we 
have not seen in any other city; the platform is 
pulled back and forth across the Seine by means 
of a cable passed overhead upon a structure so 
high that the largest ships and tallest masts pass 
freely beneath it. The aerial track upon which 
the cable rests is supported on each bank of the 
Seine by lofty steel towers ; wire ropes connected 
with the moving cable extend down to the movable 
platform far below, so that when the cable moves 
the ferry platform moves, too, carrying with it its 
load of freight and passengers. 

We had seen in our Michelin automobile guide 
that the Hotel de Paris had accommodations for 
two automobiles; that is why we chose that hotel. 
Motoring is now so common in France that in 
their eagerness to secure the motorist's patronage 
many hotels provide free storage for their guests ' 
automobiles. On reaching the end of a day's run 
we always consulted our Michelin to see what hotel 
would store the Get-There free of charge. 

On the Chicago was a young student from a 
western college, who had come over to spend his 



The Road to Rouen 25 

vacation on a bicycle. He started from Havre 
several hours before we did, yet we passed him on 
the road, and were dressed and at dinner before 
he wheeled np to the Hotel de Paris splattered 
with mud, but declaring that he had had a bully 
time and wouldn't swap his bike for a dozen autos. 

"You might as well be in an armchair as in that 
bunch of upholstery,' ' he said. "You get no ex- 
ercise, at least none with your legs. I dare say 
your arms get a bit of a turn now and then, twist- 
ing that wheel or putting on a tire, but look at 
that! You can't get that lolling in an auto !" And 
he pointed with pride to the calves of his stock- 
inged legs. They certainly were well developed, 
betokening much cycling in his western state; 
twenty-five years ago this argument might have 
carried conviction to me, but the strenuous bicycle 
does not appeal to one so strongly at forty-five as 
it does when one is twenty. I smiled at the stu- 
dent's enthusiasm, but I did not offer to swap my 
automobile for his "bike." 

As excellent as was the Hotel de Paris at No. 
50 Quai de Paris we shall not stop there the next 
time we go to Eouen — this because I have prom- 
ised Beamer to stop at the Inn des Bons Enfants, 
which we discovered while rambling in the old 
quarter of the city. We were threading our way 
down a curious, winding street, so narrow that an 
automobile could not possibly traverse it — a street 



26 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

like one in an "Old Paris' ' or an "Old Nurem- 
berg' ' of a World's Fair show — everything was so 
quaint and queer, so far removed in spirit, in color, 
in looks from the life and street of the twentieth 
century. The houses leaned forward as if about to 
embrace their neighbors across the way; the win- 
dows were small, like portholes — I could have 
sworn that a hunchback we saw darting through a 
narrow passage into a court was a twin brother of 
Hugo's "Hunchback of Notre Dame." And the 
courtyard into which he darted was precisely such 
a place as d'Artagnan was accustomed to stable 
his horse in. 

We stumbled on this court of the Inn des Bons 
Enfants by accident ; a peasant driving a cart with 
two enormous wheels had quite occupied the nar- 
row street, compelling us to regulate our steps by 
those of his horse, for there was not room enough 
for us to pass the cart. Suddenly the peasant 
pulled to the right and turned into the courtyard 
which the hunchback had entered. We in our turn 
followed the cart and presently found ourselves 
in a curious place filled with carts loaded with veg- 
etables; they had come from the country for 
twenty miles about Eouen and the Hotel des Bons 
Enfants was a typical peasant's inn. At the 
court's far end a door admitted us into a large 
kitchen in charge of a motherly woman with a 
queer white bonnet on her head. Not suspecting 



The Road to Rouen 27 

that our questions were prompted by mere curi- 
osity, she saw in us possible patrons and offered 
to show us rooms. They were small and they 
looked out on the court filled with carts and horses, 
but the rooms were clean and the beds were spread 
with clean linen. For Monsieur and Madame the 
room would cost two francs (thirty-nine cents) ; 
dinner, and a good one, too, costs two francs. The 
grand breakfast was one franc, while petit de- 
jeuner — "Ah, Monsieur, that is verily but a trifle, 
three or four sous, according to the amount of 
bread one eats." 

The Inn des Bons Enfants has been run as an 
hotel since the year 1410, exactly ^ve hundred 
years, and Beamer wanted to bring our things 
from the Hotel de Paris and stay there. 

"Just think!" she cried. "This was an inn 
when they burned poor Joan of Arc. Perhaps the 
man who slept in this very room, when he awoke 
in the morning, went around the corner that dread- 
ful day to see her burn. It will bring it all so 
close to us if we come and stop here!" 

Our stay in Rouen was to be so short, and we 
were so comfortably fixed at the Hotel de Paris, 
Beamer finally consented to forego making this 
sentimental change of hotels, but in return I prom- 
ised if ever we went back to Rouen that we would 
stop at the ancient Inn des Bons Enfants. 



28 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"Beyond the Place de la Pucelle is the Place du Vieux- 
March6 where Joan of Arc was burned in 1431 on the spot 
marked on our plan by a cross." 

That is the terse way in which Baedeker puts it ; 
if anything could make a story seem commonplace 
and uninteresting it would be this guidebook 
method of treatment. But nothing can dull the 
heart-interest, the pathos, the tragedy of Joan of 
Arc's story — a story without a parallel in the 
world's history, and hardly paralleled even in the 
pages of romantic fiction. That is why, in spite 
of Baedeker's cold two-line notice, every tourist 
to Rouen goes to. the old market-place and looks at 
the spot marked with a marble tablet where that 
marvelous maid was burned to death nearly five 
hundred years ago. Only nineteen at the time of 
her death, yet she had already won immortality; 
only an unlettered, unsophisticated peasant girl, 
yet she had done what France's greatest men had 
not been able to do — led French armies to victory, 
defeated the English and crowned Charles King 
of France at Rheims. No scientific training, no 
military college, no drilling for Joan — only dreams 
and spirit voices. But these were enough to win 
a kingdom for Charles and to incur a sorceress' 
death for the poor little maid of Domremy. No, 
such a story as this can not be made common- 
place even by cold, terse, guidebook treatment; 
the spot marked by that marble cross on the side- 




IT WAS THEOUGH THIS DOOK THAT JOAN OF ARC WAS 
CONDUCTED TO TORTURE 



The Road to Rouen 29 

walk in front of the market-place in Kouen has 
been of mournful interest to the world for many 
hundred years ; it will continue of interest as long 
as civilization endures and wonderful deeds and 
undeserved martyrdom have power to thrill the 
hearts and stir the imagination of men. 

Rouen 's busiest street is called the Rue Jeanne 
d'Arc; statues are erected in her honor; secular 
historians without a dissenting voice have declared 
her one of the world's most extraordinary figures. 
And now the church has decreed her a saint and 
given her the crown of martyrdom. As we stood 
in the dungeon of Philip Augustus' castle, built 
in 1207, and called the Tour de Jeanne d'Arc 
since her imprisonment there in 1431, as we looked 
on the very manacles and massive walls that once 
imprisoned her, and then as we stooped and passed 
out through the same little door through which 
Joan walked that May morning to her death, and 
followed the same path which she took from the 
tower to the market-place, we thought of the infi- 
nite pity, the infinite tragedy of it all — so much 
suffering in her life, when suffering meant so much 
to her; so much homage after her death, when 
neither suffering nor homage can affect her ! This 
thought is often impressed upon the traveler; one 
generation sings paeans of praise and erects monu- 
ments to the memory of men whom a previous gen- 
eration burned at the stake or crucified on a cross. 



30 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

In Rome there is a noble statue of Giardano Bruno 
on the spot where he was burned in February, 
1600. Who knows but that some day the traveler 
in Spain will see boulevards named after Senor 
Ferrer and statues erected to his memory even in 
Barcelona, where he was shot to death in October, 
1909? 

While we stood on the sidewalk near Joan of 
Arc's tablet, reading its brief inscription — 
"Jeanne d'Arc, 31 Mai 1431 ' '— thinking of that 
May morn five hundred years ago, when nature 
was so beautiful and man so cruel, we were roused 
from thoughts of the dead past and recalled to the 
present by a sudden and horrible noise — a noise 
as of several hundred lunatics all screaming at 
once. Eushing inside the market-house to see what 
was the matter, we beheld a mob of men and 
women surging around an enormous stone-covered 
table, on which was a huge pile of squirming, wrig- 
gling fish, dumped there a moment before from 
sacks and barrels filled with water. At one end of 
the table sat a matronly woman and two men. For 
a couple of minutes the mob screamed and gesticu- 
lated wildly, then there was a hush; the matronly 
woman wrote something in a book, one of the men 
wrote something in another book, the mass of fish 
was swept off the table into sacks and we thought 
the disturbance ended. 

But before we had time to turn around another 



The Road to Rouen 31 

pile of fish was dumped on that big marble slab, 
and the screaming began again — all rather mys- 
tifying until we learned what it was about: the 
boats from Havre had just arrived and this was 
an auction of fish to traders and hucksters. One of 
the men at the head of the table was the auctioneer 
and the other man was an officer of the Eouen 
octroi. A tax was due on every pound of those 
fish and the octroi officer was there to see that 
every pound paid its tax. The harder a man 
works the bigger his appetite, and the more he 
eats the more tax he pays ; this ingenious tax can 
not be escaped. It reaches out into the market- 
place, into the grocery store, into the butcher shop 
and levies toll on every morsel of food that is 
eaten. The only possible way to beat it is to get 
dyspepsia and stop eating. 

As inequitable as such a system is — taxing most 
heavily those least able to bear it — it, nevertheless, 
has a firm hold upon the Latin states of Europe ; 
there are few towns in France, Spain or Italy 
where incoming food is not stopped and taxed at 
the city gates. True, in the case of foreign motor- 
ists the law is frequently not enforced. I recall 
one instance, however, in the days of my Tramp 
Trip, when I had to eat the luncheon in my knap- 
sack in order to avoid the octroi tax. The amount 
was a trifle, but I had already paid on that same 
luncheon when passing through a village a few 



32 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

miles back, and I was opposed on principle to pay- 
ing two tax fees on one and the same lunch; that 
was why I stopped just outside the town gate and 
put the lunch where it could not be taxed as I 
entered the town. 

Of course, we visited Rouen's cathedral and saw 
its beautiful windows, its carved stalls, its relics 
of gruesome interest, such as the heart of Richard 
Coeur de Lion. That heart, which beat so bravely 
in a hundred battles, until it was pierced by an ar- 
row from the Castle of Chaluz, has reposed for 
seven hundred years in a niche within the stately 
Gothic Cathedral of Rouen. Not far from the 
cathedral stands the tower of the big clock, stretch- 
ing clear across the street. It was raining the 
morning we were there, so we stopped the Get- 
There under the shelter of the overhanging tower 
whilst we went foraging. Despite the octroi tax 
prices seemed reasonable. For eight cents we got 
a basket of delicious strawberries ; some excellent 
cream cheese, bread and cakes cost only a few cents 
more, and on returning to the Get-There we 
climbed into its seats and lunched there, protected 
from the rain by the big clock above; and that 
lunch cost only thirty cents for the two of us ! The 
passers-by seemed interested in this unconven- 
tional proceeding, but they had no advantage over 
us, for we were interested in them, especially in 
the women who filled their pitchers from the an- 




I. 



THE CLOCK TOWER IN ROUEN : WE STOPPED THE GET- 
THERE HERE AND LUNCHED ON STRAW- 
BERRIES, BREAD AND CHEESE 



The Road to Rouen 33 

cient fountain at the base of the clock tower. In 
America even cheap flats are supplied with run- 
ning water, but modern plumbing is not often 
found in houses of the Middle Ages ; consequently, 
in Old World cities sometimes even the rich, living 
in pretentious palaces, have to send out to a street 
fountain for their water. 

Our luncheon under the big clock finished, the 
Get-There was put in motion and twenty yards 
away we turned into the Eue Jeanne d'Arc, then 
into the Quai de Paris, and soon we were again 
on our way up the valley of the Seine. 



CHAPTER III 



At the gates of Paris. — We make a notched stick. — A French 
arrest. — Motoring on crowded boulevards. — The Bastile. — 
Napoleon's tomb. — Malmaison. — Forty-eight miles of motor- 
ing through the forest of Fontainebleau. 



^VN the way from Rouen to Paris both roads and 
^-^ scenery were splendid as far as St. Ger- 
main; then both fell below par, especially the 
roads, which, the rest of the way to Paris, were as 
bad as American roads. Just why they should be 
so bad for ten miles or so around Paris, when they 
are so excellent everywhere else in France, I do 
not know, but it is a fact. Not once on any of our 
excursions out of Paris did we find a good road 
until we had gone at least a dozen miles. 

As far as St. Germain the Get-There sailed 
along over roads so smooth it was like flying ; then 
the shaking-up process began and continued until 
we halted in front of the gate opening into the 
Avenue de la Grande Armee, that superb boule- 
vard down which the Germans marched forty years 
ago into the Champs Elysees, and so on to the 
palace of the Tuilleries. At that gate the shake-up 
of the road ended and the shake-up of the octroi 

34 



At the Gates of Paris 35 

began, for Paris lets no octroi penny escape, not 
even that of the foreign motorist. We were asked 
to remove the cushions so the officer could get at 
the tank underneath the seat and thrust in his 
measuring stick and guess at the quantity of " es- 
sence' ' the tank contained; I say guess, for that is 
all he could do. It was not possible to get the 
tank's dimensions, located as it was under the 
seat ; hence it was the merest guesswork to say it 
held so many liters, merely because the stick 
showed that the gasoline was so many inches deep. 
As the octroi tax is high — four cents a quart — 
it was worth while to arrange for a real measure- 
ment rather than submit to mere guesswork; ac- 
cordingly, one of the first things we did in Paris 
was to empty the Get-There 's tank, then refill it, 
^ve liters at a time; as each five-liter bidon was 
emptied into the tank a stick was thrust down to 
the bottom and a notch made at the point where 
the gasoline came, so that each notch on the stick 
would mean five liters of gasoline in the tank — a 
trifling detail this, but one the reader will appre- 
ciate should he ever do any motoring in and out 
of Paris. During the ten days Paris was our head- 
quarters we passed through the gates half a dozen 
times, visiting Fontainebleau, Versailles, Malmai- 
son and the many other historic spots in the capi- 
tal's environs; and that notched stick was like a 



36 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

magician's wand in expediting onr passage. It 
reduced the delay to a minimum. 

"Voila, Monsieur, three notches. That means 
fifteen liters." 

"Vous etes certain, Monsieur?" (you are cer- 
tain?) 

' ' Quite. It is I myself who made the notches. ' ' 

"In that case, Monsieur, the amount you pay is 
three francs. ' ' 

Such is a sample of the dialogue which took 
place each time we entered Paris. When going 
the other way, out instead of in, the notches told 
the officers how many liters with which to credit 
us ; then when we re-entered the city the tax was 
imposed only upon the amount, if any, in excess of 
that with which we had previously made our exit. 
When we left Paris for the last time the Get- 
There 's tank contained forty liters of gasoline and 
the octroi officer gave us a little blue slip reading 
as follows : 



Octroi de Paris, Porte de Charenton. 9986. 

Bulletin de Constatation de Sortie. 
A l'usage exclusif des conducteurs d'Automobiles. Bon pour 
la reintroduction de quarante litres de petrole ou essence 
minerale (Droit: 19.80 fr l'hectol). 
Paris le 8 Aout 1909. 

Chef de Service. 

767-Z-5. 

Ce bon n'est valable que pour une seule reintroduction egale 
ou inferieure a la quantity ci-dessus indiquee. 



At the Gates of Paris 37 

We are treasuring that little blue slip not so 
much because of the $1.60 it will save us should 
we ever re-enter Paris with forty liters of "es- 
sence," but because we hope it may prove a mascot 
and some day bring us back to Paris in a motor 
car. Than this no mascot could do one a better 
turn, for to be in Paris with your own automobile 
is the most enjoyable thing imaginable. It is said 
all good Americans go to Paris when they die, but 
no motoring American will wait till the hereafter 
if he has half a chance to go there now. In saying 
this it is fair to add that I am going counter to the 
opinion of friends who have motored in France. 
When they reached Paris they stored their auto- 
mobile and resorted to 'buses and taxicabs; they 
thought it too dangerous to motor on the capital's 
crowded thoroughfares. It is true that amid the 
congested traffic of one of the world's largest cities 
one needs steady nerves and a cool head, but even 
on the Boulevard des Italiens and the Avenue de 
l'Opera we experienced no special difficulty; and 
there was keen delight in watching that wonderful 
stream of vehicles, of horses, of humanity, and of 
being for the moment an atom in that great stream, 
mingling with it, a part of its life, of its infinite 
variety ! Such a stream is to be seen in only two 
or three of the world's largest cities, and even in 
them — in New York and in London — the scene is 



38 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

not so variegated, so animated, so picturesque as 
it is on the great boulevards of Paris. 

The hotel we went to was near the Opera House, 
so was the garage, and it took but a few minutes 
after dinner each evening during our stay to get 
the Get-There and plunge into one or the other of 
the animated streams which begin at the Place de 
l'Opera and radiate thence in a dozen different 
directions to the farthest extremities of the me- 
tropolis. During the ten days that we were thus 
tempting fate, and, according to our timid friends 
who stored their automobile and rode in 'buses, 
that we were running the risk of all sorts of acci- 
dents, we had not a single mishap, not a break- 
down, not a scratch. Even our lamps came out of 
the ordeal unscathed, although there were mo- 
ments when the long line of vehicles hesitated and 
halted, and it required skilful handling to avoid 
collision with the driver just ahead or just behind 
us. 

One thing did happen during those ten days, but 
that was funny rather than serious. I was arrest- 
ed. It was one afternoon on the Boulevard des Ital- 
iens. While Beamer stepped into the bank, and 
while I awaited her return, seated in the Get-There 
in front of the Credit Lyonnaise, a policeman ap- 
proached, touched his cap in polite salute and said 
it desolated him inexpressibly, but that he was 
obliged to place me under arrest ! Why? Because 



At the Gates of Paris 39 

my motor was smoking. I looked around, but not 
a bit of smoke did I see. "Ah, Monsieur, c'est 
vrai (that is true), but that is because the motor 
is now resting. But a while ago ! M on dieu, yes, 
it was then that Monsieur's motor smoked. I saw 
it. I followed. And now, Monsieur, be so good as 
to give me your address." 

I gave it. What next? 

"Nothing, Monsieur. C'est tout" (that is all). 

"But you said I was under arrest !" 

"Mais oui (yes), but for the present c'est tout. 
Monsieur is at liberty to proceed ! ' ' 

And giving another polite salute, the policeman 
took his departure. At the hotel that evening we 
were told that in a week or ten days there would be 
left at the hotel a summons to appear before a 
magistrate, who would probably fine me ^ve 
francs. 

"But we shall not be here after this week." 

"Ah, in that case, Monsieur, they can not fine 
you." 

And that was all there was to it. After my "ar- 
rest," which detained us less than ten minutes, we 
continued our drive to the Place de la Bastile, in 
doing so passing through the eight principal boule- 
vards of Paris — the Boulevards des Italiens, Mont- 
marte, Poissoniere, Bonne Nouvelle, St. Denis, 
St. Martin, du Temple and Beaumarchais, and 
thence to Napoleon's tomb by the Boulevards 



40 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Henri IV and St. Germain. Any one who can 
without mishap conduct an automobile along this 
route between three and six o'clock in the after- 
noon can fairly claim to know how to drive a motor 
car. Such a jam of men, horses and automobiles 
is to be seen nowhere else in the world; in London 
there is as big a jam of men and horses, but Paris 
has more automobiles, and they rush about with- 
out the least regard for speed laws or the safety 
of pedestrians. Were it not for the little 
"islands" stationed at intervals in the center of 
the streets it would be quite impossible for a 
pedestrian to cross a Paris boulevard. As it is, he 
must watch his chance to dart over to the island ; 
there, under the sheltering wing of a tall lamp- 
post, standing on the raised circle around its base, 
he must watch the stream of humanity going the 
other way on the other half of the street and wait 
for a gap through which to dart across to his desti- 
nation. If he is timid and waits for too big a gap 
he may stand by that lamp-post an hour; but after 
one has been in Paris a while one ceases to be timid 
in such matters. Every one seems to be rushing 
across the boulevards, almost under the horses' 
hoofs or the automobile wheels, and everybody — 
or nearly everybody — gets across alive; so you, 
too, soon find yourself willing to take chances. 

As the Place de la Bastile is neared the Boule- 
vard Beaumarchais widens almost into a square 



At the Gates of Paris 41 

which is largely given up to merrymaking, a la 
Coney Island. We saw there a merry-go-round of 
goats, lions, hogs and other animals whirling 
around to the accompaniment of the usual canned 
music, and grown-up men and women, as well as 
children, were riding on those goats and lions. Not 
far away was a sliding game : a cable was fastened 
at one end to the top of a pier thirty feet high, and 
the other end, a hundred yards away, was fastened 
to a ring in the ground. Boys, and men, too, climbed 
to the top of that pier and grasped a handle con- 
nected with a grooved wheel and shot down the in- 
cline at terrifying speed. Next to this game some 
acrobats were showing their skill on the sidewalk, 
and then taking up a collection from the lookers- 
on — all this in the heart of Paris on one of its 
main thoroughfares. If the reader can imagine 
the merry-go-rounds of Coney Island suddenly 
transported across the Brooklyn Bridge and set 
down in Columbus Circle on Broadway, he will 
be able to picture the scene one beholds as one ap- 
proaches the Place de la Bastile. 

With such horse-play going on, with that canned 
music filling the air with discordant sounds, it was 
difficult to step back in spirit to that July day in 
1789 when this same square was filled, not with 
idle merrymakers, but with thousands of stern- 
faced men about to strike the first deadly blow at 
the old order of things in France. We stopped the 



42 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Get-There in front of the column which now stands 
in the center of the square, and by reading there 
on the spot descriptions of the celebrated prison, 
which once stood where we were then reading, we 
were able to forget the hubbub around us and live 
for a moment in the past. 

One of the episodes we read, related in Arthur 
Young's diary, is worth repeating: The English 
squire, who was in Paris the day the Bastile was 
stormed, says that while awaiting the French Min- 
ister of Foreign Affairs in the latter 's reception- 
room, Lord Albemarle, the English ambassador, 
happened to glance at a paper on the minister's 
table ; it was a list of the Bastile 's prisoners, and 
the first name on the list was George Gordon. 
When the minister entered a few minutes later 
Lord Albemarle apalogized for seeing the list — it 
was really quite accidental, the paper was lying 
open where he could not help seeing it. And, hav- 
ing seen it, he was naturally interested in observ- 
ing that the first name on the list was that of an 
Englishman : Would His Excellency mind telling 
why the Englishman Gordon was imprisoned ? No, 
His Excellency wouldn't mind in the least, only 
really he didn't know — but he would inquire and 
let the ambassador know. Several days later the 
Minister of Foreign Affairs reported that the Gov- 
ernor of the Bastile knew nothing of the case ex- 
cept that Gordon had been in the prison thirty 



At the Gates of Paris 43 

years ; who put him there, or why he was put there, 
the records did not state. Then the prisoner was 
sent for, but he, too, declared that he had no idea 
why he had been imprisoned. Thirty years before 
he had been dragged from his home in the middle 
of the night, and from that moment until sent for 
to answer the ambassador's questions he had never 
been outside his dungeon walls ! 

Gordon was at once set free, but think of those 
awful thirty years of martyrdom — a martyrdom 
for no known cause either to the victim or to his 
jailors. Was it the result of a frightful mistake? 
Was it due to private malice? Did some dissolute 
woman with an influential lover wheedle him into 
giving her a lettre de cachet that she might feed 
her grudge against the Englishman! These ques- 
tions were never answered, and even the tragedy 
of his imprisonment would not have been known, 
and the wretched Gordon would not have gained 
freedom, even after thirty years, but for the veri- 
est accident — the accident of the English ambassa- 
dor happening to glance at a piece of paper on the 
table of the French Minister of Foreign Affairs ! 

Eeading this book of Arthur Young, written on 
the spot within a few days after the storming of 
the Bastile, almost made lis forget the noise of the 
merry-go-rounds and the steam organs ; it enabled 
us, too, to comprehend why the people were so 
terribly in earnest that July morning in 1789, and 



44 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

why July 14th is to this day celebrated from one 
end of France to the other. 

From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step 
— and so from the ridiculous merry-go-rounds 
with their hogs and goats and frivolous crowds of 
fun-finders, it was but a little way to the solemn 
and majestic tomb of Napoleon. Within a few 
minutes after leaving the Place de la Bastile with 
its noisy crowds, the Get-There stood in front of 
the Hotel des Invalides while we entered and 
looked down upon the tomb of the mightiest man 
in history. 

As is usually the case, the place was filled with 
people drawn hither by the solemn beauty of the 
surroundings, as well as by the never-dying inter- 
est in the marvelous man whose ashes repose 
where he wished them to repose — "on the banks of 
the Seine in the midst of the French people whom 
I loved so well ! ' ' Little attention, certainly little 
respect, is paid by the average visitor at the Hotel 
des Invalides to the tomb of Napoleon's common- 
place brother, Joseph, or to the tomb of his unwor- 
thy brother, Jerome. Near Jerome's sarcophagus 
is a smaller one containing the heart of his second 
wife, Sophia Dorothea, daughter of King Fred- 
erick I of Wurttemberg. After Napoleon's down- 
fall King Frederick wanted his daughter to 
abandon Jerome, as Jerome had abandoned his 
American wife, the beautiful Miss Patterson; but 



At the Gates of Paris 45 

declaring she meant to share his misfortune as 
well as his fortune, Sophia Dorothea lived with 
Jerome until her death. Beamer thought such de- 
votion deserved respect and was pleased at seeing 
Sophia Dorothea 's faithful heart awarded a niche 
a few yards away from the tomb of Napoleon : but 
why was Jerome there? What had he ever done 
but mistreat his lovely American wife? 

That was Beamer's way of looking at it — hardly 
just, perhaps, for Jerome did do a few things be- 
sides abandon Miss Patterson, but if he ever did 
anything to entitle him to a place among France's 
four most illustrious dead, history has neglected 
to record it. He was Napoleon's youngest and 
most obedient brother, which may account for the 
favors he received from the emperor, but relation- 
ship and servility to a great man are poor grounds 
on which to claim a nation's homage. The visitor 
to the Hotel des Invalides who turns from the 
sarcophagi of the mighty emperor and his heroic 
marshals, Duroc and Bertrand, to the sarcophagus 
of Jerome Bonaparte can but feel that he is in the 
presence of an anti-climax. In intellect and genius 
the gulf between the two brothers was too wide to 
make equal honors to their ashes seem aught but 
inharmonious and insincere. 

From Napoleon's tomb we drove eight miles to 
Malmaison, where some of the happiest and the 
bitterest moments of his life were spent ; for here, 



46 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

in this modest chateau so near Paris, yet so iso- 
lated by high walls and tall trees as to seem a score 
of leagues distant from the city, the First Consul 
used to retreat with Josephine when wearied of 
the pomp and ceremony of the Tuileries. And 
here he came again after Waterloo and remained a 
week, until the approach of the Prussians on June 
29th, 1815, forced him to leave. 

As bitter as were those days the year before at 
Fontainebleau, when Napoleon signed the abdica- 
tion and set forth for Elba, they were not so bitter 
as the days of that last week at Malmaison. At Fon- 
tainebleau the defeats he had just endured were 
overwhelming, the future was black and gloomy — 
still there was a future ; there still lay before him 
the Hundred Days, the most marvelous days ever 
lived by mortal man. For until then not even in 
the pages of fiction had the world ever witnessed 
such an exploit as that of a lone exile, with only a 
riding whip in his hand, overcoming great armies 
and taking captive a great nation ! But what re- 
mained after Waterloo 1 Nothing. And Napoleon 
knew it. There, in that knowledge that for him 
there was no future, lay the bitterness of those 
seven days at Malmaison after Waterloo. Fortu- 
nately the crushed and conquered emperor could 
not foresee the grim rocks of St. Helena and the 
six years of mental and physical torture; yet a lit- 
tle while was he spared that knowledge, but what 



At the Gates of Paris 47 

he did foresee was enough, and we may well 
imagine that his last week in the home he bought 
for Josephine after his first Italian campaign was 
a week of despair and agony. 

In the garden fifty yards from the Chateau of 
Malmaison is the little house of a single room 
which Napoleon used as a study in his early days ; 
it was into this little room that he crept after Wa- 
terloo and spent that last dreadful week waiting 
for the final blow which he knew was swiftly 
coming. Josephine had died in that room the year 
before, and one would think that amid such memo- 
ries, facing such a future, Napoleon might well 
have sought to end his life as he lay there upon the 
same couch on which his first wife — the wife he 
really loved — had recently breathed her last. His- 
tory tells us, however, that it was at Fontaine- 
bleau, not at Malmaison, that the suicide attempt 
was made. 

In the stable at Malmaison is the carriage in 
which Josephine drove from the. Tuileries the day 
of her divorce in 1809, just one hundred years be- 
fore the day of our visit. On the cushions we saw 
some stains — tear-stains, Beamer insisted they 
were; and as doubtless poor Josephine did shed 
tears on that sad drive to Malmaison I agreed that 
they ought to be tear-stains, even if in truth they 
were something else. Near the carriage is the 
black pall which covered Napoleon's coffin on its 



48 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

return from St. Helena and on its triumphal voy- 
age up the Seine. 

The morning after our visit to Malmaison we 
drove to Fontainebleau and saw more reminders of 
Napoleon — the hat he wore on his return from 
Elba, the table on which the abdication was writ- 
ten and the daub of ink which was splashed on the 
table when the fallen emperor threw down the pen 
with which he had just made his wonderful signa- 
ture — a signature that looked no more like a name 
than a hen-roost looks like an oil painting. I know 
not if that ink daub is renewed from time to time ; 
it certainly looks fresh, but the guide will tell you 
no, that it is the very same ink which the abdi- 
cating emperor splashed there in 1814. And so 
pictures are painted of it and photographs made 
and post cards printed about it, and altogether it 
is the most famous daub of ink in Europe. 

In the luxurious quarters at Fontainebleau 
where Pope Pius VII was imprisoned occurred the 
famous interview between Napoleon and the Pope, 
in which the emperor sought by cajolery to 
gain the Pope's assent to his projects. His Holi- 
ness listened quietly, and when Napoleon finished 
murmured but one word: "Comediante" (Come- 
dian). Angered at the word, Napoleon changed 
from smiles to frowns, from promises to threats, 
and stormed up and down the room as he had done 
before the Peace Commissioners from Austria that 



At the Gates of Paris 49 

time he dashed the porcelain vase to the floor. The 
Austrian Commissioners were bluffed at Campo 
Formio, but not so Pius VII at Fontainebleau. 
When Napoleon paused to note the effect of his 
threats the Pope again murmured but a single 
word, this time: "Tragediente" (Tragedian). 
Finding neither comedy nor tragedy of avail, Na- 
poleon realized that he had to perform as well as 
to promise, and the Concordat was the result. 

Near the apartments of the Pope is Napoleon's 
Council Chamber; the throne, a comfortable arm- 
chair, stands at one end of the room on a platform 
fifteen inches high. Lined up in front of this arm- 
chair, facing each other, are two rows of stools — 
no backs, low, uncomfortable in spite of their gilt 
legs and plush seats — but what tales those stools 
could tell were they given power of speech — Napo- 
leon in that armchair, his ministers and marshals 
on those stools before him — a different setting 
from White House cabinet meetings, the President 
and his secretaries in comfortable revolving chairs 
around a heavy mahogany table. But the Little 
Corporal and his counselors decided just as mo- 
mentous matters on those low, uncomfortable 
stools as have ever been decided in the more com- 
fortable cabinet room of the White House. 

There is one apartment at Fontainebleau which, 
although seldom visited by tourists, is from one 
point of view even more interesting than the rooms 



50 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

associated with Napoleon — I mean the chamber in 
which Queen Christina of Sweden put to death 
her equerry and lover, Count Monaldeschi. The 
Count, after receiving the Queen's favors, was un- 
gallant enough to speak slightingly of her charms 
and the Queen ordered him put to death. When 
two officers approached to carry out this order 
Monaldeschi protested his innocence so loudly and 
begged for his life so beseechingly that the officers 
went back to the Queen and implored her to be 
merciful. But the Queen was a jealous woman; 
she believed her lover had first enjoyed her favors, 
then jeered at her. ' ' Go, kill him, ' ' she sternly re- 
peated. When the officers returned to Monaldes- 
chi, who was waiting the issue in an adjoining 
room, and told him Christina was inexorable, he 
fell on his knees and pleaded again. 

"For God's sake, not now, not now! Don't kill 
me now ! Ask her once more, just once more ! ' ' 

The two officers wavered, then yielded and once 
more presented themselves before the Queen; but 
instead of softening, this persistence angered her. 

"If you do not execute my command," she cried, 
"I will find those who will. And then Monaldes- 
chi 's fate shall be yours, too!" 

A moment later the officers re-entered the room 
where the unhappy man was waiting. Even as 
they opened the door he saw from their faces that 
mercy was denied him, and with a scream he fell 



At the Gates of Paris 51 

upon the floor, where the two officers rushed upon 
him and slew him with their swords. From the 
window of the room where this happened we looked 
out upon the spot where Monaldeschi's body was 
buried after those two officers had finished their 
bloody work; the stone marking the grave is still 
there on the east side of the park not far from the 
chateau. 

As we stood in that room (which is seldom 
shown, and then only by special permission) look- 
ing at the spot where poor Monaldeschi groveled 
on his knees and begged for just a few hours more 
of life, we thought how strange an animal is man ! 
Strong men, perhaps brave men, killed a fellow- 
man in cold blood at the behest of a female profli- 
gate whose pride had been wounded. Why? Sim- 
ply because that bad old woman was called a 
Queen ! She was far from her own domains ; she 
had no army, no judges, no courts to enforce her 
decrees ; she was a mere traveler in a foreign land. 
But she was a Queen, and so when she said : i ' Go, 
kill, ' ' men went and killed. Louis XIV, whose guest 
Christina was at that time (1657), is said to have 
disapproved of this private assassination in his 
chateau at Fontainebleau, but he must have ex- 
pressed his disapproval in mild terms ; at any rate, 
the Swedish Queen prolonged her visit at Fon- 
tainebleau for nearly two years after Monaldes- 
chi's murder. 



52 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

The world still has kings and queens, a few of 
them possibly inclined to be high-handed and auto- 
cratic, but such an episode as that which occurred 
in this room at Fontainebleau two hundred and 
fifty-three years ago is hardly conceivable to-day 
— from which it is fair to conclude that the world 
does move, and that humanity is a trifle better off 
now than it has ever been in past centuries. 

It was a relief to leave the rooms of the chateau, 
so crowded with memories of history's tragedies, 
and go into the forest — the finest forest in France 
if not in Europe. Both Beamer and I had been 
there before, but on former visits we had no auto- 
mobile and saw only its merest fringe. This time 
we were able to see it all, and so delightful are its 
shaded lanes, so exquisite the lights and shadows 
filtering through the foliage and the dense under- 
growth, we would not have known when to leave 
had not the deepening shadows at length warned 
us the day was growing old, and that it was time to 
return to Paris. 

From the Chateau of Fontainebleau to our hotel 
door in Paris the distance was exactly forty miles 
— eighty miles for the round trip; but our speed- 
ometer registered one hundred and twenty-eight 
miles, from which we knew that we had motored 
forty-eight miles in the delightful forest of Fon- 
tainebleau. 



CHAPTER IY 



Off for Normandy. — We breakfast at the Pavilion Henri IV. — 
Our siren rouses the peasants. — Trouville. — Mistaken for 
Baedeker's agent. — Inn of William the Conqueror. — Bayeux. 
— In a flood at Avranches. — Mont St. Michel and fake omelets. 



^l^rE set forth on our trip through Nor- 
* * inanely and the chateau country one Fri- 
day morning at eight o 'clock, and at the lively gait 
one is permitted to motor in Paris ten minutes 
sufficed to bring us from our hotel to the end of 
the Avenue de la Grande Armee. There we 
stopped to measure the gasoline in the Get-There 's 
tank and to get the little blue slip which would let 
us bring back into the city free of octroi tax the 
same quantity of gasoline that we carried away 
with us. As we put the seat cushions back in place 
and cranked up to go, the octroi officer wished us a 
polite bon voyage — and we had one, all except the 
first twelve miles to St. Germain. Those twelve 
miles were over rough cobblestones and we were 
obliged to turn off the road every few minutes so 
as to make room for the long stream of wagons and 
carts that was pouring into the great city. 

This exercise, and this jolting over rough stones, 

53 



54? Seeing Europe by Automobile 

gave us such appetites that by the time St. Ger- 
main was reached, although less than an hour had 
elapsed, the flimsy meal which the French call 
petit dejeuner, and which we had eaten at our hotel 
before leaving, was as if it had never been; we 
were ready for a "sure enough" breakfast, con- 
sequently, on reaching the summit of a long climb 
into St. Germain, instead of continuing on through 
the town we turned to the right and in a few min- 
utes found ourselves on the terrace of the Pavilion 
Henri IV. The waiter was much surprised at the 
order we gave, for in France nine a.m. is not 
deemed the time to eat steaks, potatoes and maca- 
roni an gratin. But motoring of any kind, much 
less bumping the bumps over twelve miles of cob- 
blestones, creates an appetite that defies conven- 
tions and establishes precedents. In all our 
journeyings we can recollect no more delightful 
hour than that on the terrace of the Pavilion 
Henri IV; keen appetites we brought with us, ex- 
cellent food and artistic cooking the restaurant 
chef furnished us, while the view — that was fur- 
nished by nature and man combined, and it cer- 
tainly was the finest we had yet seen in Europe. 

Our table was at the very edge of a lofty ter- 
race; far below, several hundred feet below, but 
so near that we could almost throw a stone in it, 
the Seine wound its sinuous way. Beyond, and all 
around, were the forests of Marly and St. Germain. 



Off for Normandy 55 

From our place on that terrace we looked down on 
the tops of the trees — it was like a great, green 
carpet, and beyond, twelve miles away, lay the 
capital, like some huge, living, breathing thing, the 
houses of its three millions of people indistinct on 
the horizon and partly hidden by Mont Valerian ; 
but the Eiffel Tower rose up from the center of 
the great mass, its graceful outlines clearly visible 
against the sky. 

There was historical interest, too, in the place 
where we breakfasted that morning; for that 
pavilion, now a restaurant, is all that remains 
of the Chateau Neuf, in which Louis XIV was 
born and in which James II died after living there 
for the twelve years following his exile from 
England. Altogether, the charm of that hour re- 
mains so vivid with us that if ever we revisit Paris 
Beamer and I are resolved to have another break- 
fast in the Pavilion Henri IV, even if the Get- 
There is a thing of the past and we have to go in 
a steam tram car — which one can do from Paris in 
two hours at a cost of seventy cents for the round 
trip. 

The old chateau, with an ancient chapel built by 
St. Louis seven hundred years ago, was but a 
stone's throw from the terrace, but we did not visit 
it, preferring to any churches and chapels on that 
delicious summer day the forests and fields and the 
long, white, ribbon-like road that comes from the 



56 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

coast to the capital. Once through St. Germain we 
found a road so perfectly smooth and hard that the 
Get-There proceeded to kick up its heels like a 
three-year-old just turned loose into a blue-grass 
pasture. It responded to the slightest touch of the 
throttle as if eager to be up and doing, now that 
the cobblestones were gone. For a while we let it 
go at the rate of fifty miles an hour, just to see 
what a modest-priced automobile, loaded with bag- 
gage, could do ; then we slowed down to a dignified 
thirty-mile gait, and never exceeded that speed all 
the way to Trouville. 

When we overtook peasants asleep in their carts 
— which often happened — Beamer touched an elec- 
tric button and set a siren to wailing like a thou- 
sand cats. We lost much time on the drive from 
Havre, trying to pass carts, the drivers of which 
were fast asleep and did not hear the Get-There 's 
"Honk," so in Paris we installed an electric siren 
and one touch of the button did the work. Few 
peasants, however befuddled with wine, could sleep 
when that wailing siren smote their ears. At the 
sound they would leap up to see what was the mat- 
ter and, seeing an automobile approaching, would 
turn out to let us pass. By the time we overtook a 
peasant's cart it would be off to one side of the 
road, hence there was no need for us to slow up ; 
and in this way that siren was equivalent to a ten 
per cent increase in the Get-There 's speed. 



Off for Normandy 57 

Passing through Nantes to Bonnieres, we turned 
west to Evreux and Liseux, then due north to 
Trouville, where we arrived early in the afternoon, 
one hundred and twenty-five miles from our start- 
ing point in Paris. From our road map we had 
made a list of the towns through which we were to 
pass ; the sign-posts did the rest, making it wholly 
unnecessary to lose time either in studying maps 
or in asking peasants what road to take. 

Trouville is France's great seashore resort. Its 
boardwalk, like that at Atlantic City, is far-famed ; 
it is called the Summer Boulevard of Paris, and in 
the season is thronged with the fashionably 
dressed people of a dozen European states. I say 
these things, not because we can bear witness to 
them, for we can not ; when we were there the place 
was cold and dreary and deserted, in spite of the 
fact that it was in the height of the season. But} 
Baedeker says Trouville is gay and brilliant and 
crowded in the season, and many people swear by 
Baedeker, even when his statements are contrary 
to their own senses. 

As far as Liseux the day had been divine ; then 
as the coast was neared cold winds and rain blew 
in from the ocean and by the time Trouville was 
reached the mere thought of a surf bath made our 
teeth chatter. We took a drive on the heights back 
of Trouville and looked thence across the estuary 
of the Seine at our hotel in Havre ; then we put the 



58 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Get-There in a garage and spent the remainder of 
the afternoon in front of the hotel fire. As an imi- 
tation of a summer resort it was the saddest sight 
we ever saw. Our opinion of such beastly weather, 
and of other things, too, was written in my note- 
book in the office of the Trouville hotel, and the 
writing of those notes had a magic effect ; the wait- 
ers were positively obsequious in their attentions, 
the proprietor was urbanity itself. When our bill 
was rendered the charges were unexpectedly mod- 
erate — indeed, some items were not charged for 
at all. Other guests paid extra for wine, but to us 
wine was included without extra cost. We didn't 
understand it at first, but next morning as we were 
leaving we learned that in some way rumor had 
reported me to be an agent of Baedeker, securing 
data for a new edition of the Handbook for North- 
ern France. The famous Leipzig guidebook pub- 
lisher is a powerful personage in the hotel world ; 
he can make or mar a Boniface by the simple proc- 
ess of giving, or withholding, a "star" in mention- 
ing the name of a hotel. For in Baedeker a 
star (*) means "excellent," while the absence of a 
11 *" means "only fair." Of course, no one goes 
to a hotel that is "only fair" if near-by is an "ex- 
cellent" hotel at the same price, consequently when 
Baedeker withholds the coveted star it means a 
loss of the tourist trade. I do not know what it 
was that gave that Trouville man the notion that 



Off for Normandy 59 

I was writing for Baedeker, but whatever it was 
it was a lucky thing for us, and we were sorry the 
same idea did not occur to other hotel proprietors ; 
had it done so it would have insured us the best 
possible attention at the lowest possible price. 

From Trouville early Saturday morning we 
started along the Normandy coast over a road that 
ran so close to the sea and through so many pic- 
turesque villages that we drove very slowly so as 
to get the full benefit of the glorious excursion. 
The sun had once more made its appearance, and 
for a while at least " sunny " France deserved the 
name. Twelve miles from Trouville is Dives. We 
arrived there too late for petit dejeuner and too 
early for luncheon, nevertheless we looked for the 
Auberge de Gitillaume le Conqxierant, for that 
celebrated inn must be visited whether one wants 
to eat or not. All travelers in Normandy go to 
this inn and write chapters about it, and some 
write whole books about it; Anna Bowman Dodd 
sings its praises in her charming " Three Nor- 
mandy Inns." Now that we have been there we, 
too, can add our verdict to that of those who pre- 
ceded us, viz., that it is indeed a wonderfully 
quaint, curious old inn; its interior is quite as pic- 
turesque as enthusiasts have described it. But in 
no description that we ever read was one word said 
about the inn's commonplace exterior, consequent- 
ly we passed right by it without suspecting that 



60 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

the ordinary two-story stone house standing flush 
on the village street, with no yard or garden in 
front of it, was the celebrated Inn of William the 
Conqueror. We were keeping a lookout for some- 
thing out of the ordinary, and when we got to the 
end of the town without seeing any house that 
seemed like a celebrity we asked a citizen to tell 
us where it was. 

"Mais oni, Monsieur, vous Vavez passee!" (you 
have already passed it. It is there behind you !) 

We retraced our way and this time went too far 
in the other direction. Had not a boy jumped on 
the running board and gone back with us to point 
out the inn we should have passed by it a third 
time without recognizing it as a "lion" not only of 
Dives, but of all Normandy; for that dingy stone 
house is too close to its neighbors and too like 
them, on the outside, ever to attract a traveler's 
attention. But once inside the grim walls of that 
dingy stone house and it was easy to comprehend 
its fame and popularity. The court is full of de- 
lightful little nooks and corners and vine-covered 
arbors, where the most exquisitely cooked dishes 
are served upon rustic tables. A balcony rambles 
around the second floor of the irregularly-shaped 
court, and on the doors of the rooms which open 
onto this balcony are inscribed the names of cele- 
brated persons who once occupied them. On one 
door we saw the words: "A. Dumas, pere, 1855.' ' 



Off for Normandy 61 

On the next door was a name written there in the 
fifteenth century. Beamer was anxious to stop at 
this historical old inn. "Just think," she said, 
"of the famous men who have slept here! Per- 
haps staying here would give us some sort of in- 
spiration!" 

If sleeping in one of those rooms would have 
given us even the least bit of the inspiration of 
some of the famous litterateurs who at one time or 
another have stopped there I would have cut our 
day's run short then and there, despite the fact 
that the Get-There had come only a dozen miles ; 
but as no inspiration was to be hoped for I thought 
it best to push on ; so, after thanking the amiable 
wife of the proprietor for showing us the sights 
of her delightful inn, we continued our westward 
way — pausing, however, just a moment outside the 
inn to note that the street on which it stands is 
called the Rue d 'Hastings, and that over the door- 
way is an inscription reciting that the marble tab- 
let was placed over the doorway in i i 1895, exactly 
eight hundred and thirty-nine years after William 
embarked from the quai near-by on his way to 
conquer England." 

A mile from Dives we passed Cabourg, another 
fashionable seaside place; then we turned south 
along the bank of the River Orne to Caen, eighteen 
miles from Dives and thirty miles from Trouville. 
Even with the hour's delay at the Inn of William 



62 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

the Conqueror it was still too early to breakfast, 
so the Get-There was left in front of the cathe- 
dral while we rambled about Caen on foot. Six 
hundred years ago Caen was a great city, "greater 
than any in England, save London," the chron- 
iclers of that day tell us, and the English captured 
it in 1346 and again in 1417, and they held it nearly 
fifty years. To-day it is a sleepy provincial town 
of fifty thousand inhabitants, interesting for its 
past rather than its present. Charlotte Corday 
was born in Caen, and from her home here she set 
forth to kill Marat in his bath in Paris. In a little 
cemetery on the Hue du Magasin-a-poudre (good 
name for a street, that, "Powder Magazine") we 
saw the grave of Beau Brummel, the exquisite, who 
for a while set London's fashions, and who was the 
intimate of England's greatest men. But for his 
wit Brummel might have died, as he for a time 
lived, the spoiled darling of wealth and aristoc- 
racy. But one day when Brummel was talking to 
a friend — Sheridan, I believe — the future King of 
England passed by and bowed to Sheridan. 

"Who is your fat friend, Sheridan!" queried 
Brummel. 

The Prince of Wales heard the question and 
from that time on friends and fortune abandoned 
Brummel ; he died in a foreign land, and now lies 
buried in foreign soil. From which the moral may 



Off for Normandy 63 

be drawn that it is not wise to sneer at a future 
king. 

In the Church of St. Etienne at Caen is the tomb 
of William the Conqueror. He was buried there 
nearly nine hundred years ago, but the tomb is 
empty now; the Huguenots broke it open in the 
year 1562 and scattered some of the Conqueror's 
bones; then two hundred years later, in 1793, the 
revolutionists scattered what the Huguenots had 
left. That is one of the penalties men sometimes 
pay for fame ; they get gorgeous tombs, but there 
is no telling when the people will take a notion to 
smash the tombs and desecrate their contents. 
William had been peacefully resting in St. Eti- 
enne 's Church for five hundred years, and just why 
at that late day anybody should get mad at him and 
want to break his bones is hard to say, but they 
did get mad and break his bones. And then, after 
another couple of centuries, they got mad again, 
and this time they smashed everything except Wil- 
liam's thighbone. The church cicerone said that 
that much of the Conqueror is still left in the sar- 
cophagus. The dead have no feeling, they know 
nothing of such desecrations, but while one is alive 
it is so unpleasant to contemplate such mistreat- 
ment after death that the guarantee of resting 
peacefully in one's tomb goes far toward recon- 
ciling one to not being great. Of the Church of St. 
Etienne Professor Freeman says : 



G4 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"It is the expression in stone of the imperial will of the con- 
quering Duke. * * * The church of William, vast in scale, 
hold and simple in its design, disdaining ornament, but never 
sinking into rudeness, is indeed a church worthy of its founder." 



If the term " great," applied to man, means the 
performance of unusual things William, Duke of 
Normandy, was a very great man. Although near- 
ly a thousand years have elapsed since his activi- 
ties ceased, the things he did produced results 
which are with the world to-day. Napoleon was 
infinitely the greater soldier, the greater genius, 
but will Napoleon's having lived mean practical 
things to men a thousand years hence 1 The impress 
of William's work is everywhere apparent in Nor- 
mandy, and England itself is to-day a different 
land — different in its present daily life, different 
in its laws and partly, too, in its language — be- 
cause there lived in Normandy nearly a thousand 
years ago a man known in history as W T illiam the 
Conqueror. 

At Bayeux, our next stopping place, we saw the 
famous tapestry illustrating William's invasion of 
England. The tapestry, embroidered by William 's 
wife, Matilda, eighteen inches wide and two hun- 
dred and thirty feet long, gives the episodes of the 
invasion in chapters, like a continued story. As 
news of each exploit of her liege lord was brought 
back from England, Matilda added another chap- 
ter to the tapestry ; and so it grew and grew until 



Off for Normandy 65 

there were two hundred and thirty feet of it, then 
Matilda died— a little too soon to embroider a pic- 
ture of her husband's coronation as King of Eng- 
land. In 1803 Napoleon exhibited this tapestry in 
Paris, thinking it might incite the French people 
to another invasion of perfidious Albion, but great 
soldier though he was Napoleon was unable to do 
what William had done — conquer England. Not 
once in all the years that have passed since the 
Norman Duke landed and won the battle of Has- 
tings has a hostile army even set foot on British 
soil, much less conquered the British people. 

Bayeux is only fifty miles from Trouville — not 
much of a run, but we stopped so often to see inter- 
esting things along the way, and we remained so 
long in the public library of Bayeux looking at that 
curious tapestry, that we decided to postpone the 
trip to St. Malo until morning. The dark-eyed girl 
who keeps guard over the tapestry directed us to 
an inn, where we found comfortable quarters both 
for the Get-There and for ourselves. 

In the rear of the inn was a garden where, on 
tables under the trees, amid a profusion of vines 
and sweet-smelling flowers, were served coffee and 
liqueurs after dinner. The dinner was served in a 
dining-room on a table forty feet long; just why 
so big a table was used we were not told. There 
may be times when a forty-foot table is needed, but 
the evening we dined there an ordinary family 



66 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

table would have sufficed, for the guests numbered 
only ten persons. The dinner, however, was as 
elaborate as if every seat at that forty-foot table 
had been occupied. Course after course was cere- 
moniously served by waiters in evening dress; 
wine was served ad lib. — and the price of it all 
was only seventy cents. Our room with lofty 
ceiling and an enormous bed — like the beds one 
sees in royal palaces or museums — so big and so 
high a chair must be used to climb into it — cost 
only $1.40. No charge was made for storing the 
Get-There, hence it will be seen that for less than 
four dollars a day two persons can live luxuriously 
in provincial France. 

Early next morning we were awakened by the 
sound of fifes and drums under our windows; we 
thought soldiers were passing, but on looking out 
of the window we perceived that it was a troop of 
volunteer firemen out for an early drill. Their 
hooks and ladders and fire engines were on two- 
wheeled trucks — nothing on four wheels could turn 
around in the narrow streets of a Normandy town 
— and the. men were on foot pulling the trucks. 
We quickly dressed and went out to see the drill, 
but there was none; the volunteers only paraded 
around town and then disbanded. 

On a motor trip in France heavy rains do not put 
a period to locomotion ; rains do not mean mud up 
to the axles and miring in bogs, as they sometimes 



Off for Normandy 67 

do in America. The harder the rain the cleaner 
and better are the roads in France, so perfectly 
are they drained, so scientifically constructed. But 
even so, there comes a time when rain will put a 
pause to a motor trip, even in France. At first it 
is pleasant to fly swiftly forward, the rain beating 
in your face, but elsewhere not touching you under 
your rubber cap, coat and wraps. We enjoyed the 
first hour or so out of Bayeux, enjoyed it so much 
that we did not raise the Get-There 's top. The 
baggage was protected with rubber, so were we — 
why, then, bother about the weather? In the begin- 
ning we didn't bother; we rather enjoyed the ele- 
ments. But after two hours' riding with not a 
moment's cessation of that veritable deluge we 
tired of defying the elements, and when the Get- 
There climbed up the steep street leading into 
Avranches we turned into the courtyard of the first 
hotel we encountered and resolved to stay there 
until the sun shone, even if we had to wait a week. 
"We did not have to wait that long, but we did have 
to wait until next morning. There was a hammer- 
ing on our door at six o'clock and when we started 
up from dreams of the curious old tapestry and of 
the Norman Duke conquering England the sun was 
streaming into our room through the open window. 

" Awake, Monsieur, awake and hear the great 
news ! ' ' 

It was the proprietor himself summoning us. 



68 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"To see the sun shine must be an event in this 
town, judging by the fuss they make about it," I 
remarked to Beamer, but the worthy Boniface was 
not there in pursuance of our instructions to be 
called early in case the weather cleared ; he awoke 
us to impart the news of M. Bleriot's flight across 
the English Channel. 

"It's too good and too great to keep till you 
come clown to your breakfast, therefore have I 
called you, ' ' said the hotel man. ' ' Had I waited to 
tell such news Monsieur and Madame would never 
have forgiven me!" Then he went on to the other 
rooms and knocked on the doors and shouted out 
his great news. 

Generalizations are seldom safe, but it is not too 
much to say that the French are more interested 
in aviation than any other people; certainly that 
Avranches hotel man was an enthusiast on the sub- 
ject. The news of Bleriot's flight, which had oc- 
curred at four o'clock that morning, had reached 
Avranches two hours later, and the innkeeper 
could not keep such news to himself; he went 
around awaking everybody, and he talked Bleriot 
until we took our departure. 

Avranches lies upon a lofty hill overlooking the 
sea. It is a small place of only eight thousand in- 
habitants, so in a few minutes after leaving the 
inn we were in the open country, where a sudden 
turn in the road exposed to our eyes a splendid 



Off for Normandy 69 

view of the ocean; in the distance was Mont St. 
Michel, that jagged rock which rises one hundred 
and sixty feet out of the water, and around which 
clings a small village and a lot of romantic history. 
In an air-line from where the Get-There stopped 
on the summit of the hill above the ocean the dis- 
tance to Mont St. Michel was not more than three 
or four miles, but by the road it was several times 
that distance. We did not reach Pontorsen for an 
hour and from there we had to motor six miles 
across the narrow dike which has been constructed 
from the mainland out to the Mont. By the time 
we crossed the dike and stabled the Get-There in 
the garage — that is, on the sand at the base of the 
huge rock — that is the only "garage" there — we 
were ready for one of Madame Poulard's famous 
omelets. 

And this led us to discover that there is no 
Madame Poulard. Travelers are sometimes like 
sheep, they follow one another blindly and take 
their ideas from some bell-wether who has gone 
before. A long time ago there may have been a 
motherly old woman named Poulard, who gave a 
good omelet to a traveler visiting the rock, but 
that is no reason why modern writers should go 
into ecstasies over a thing which no longer exists. 
In a recently published book we read a glowing 
account of Madame Poulard's wonderful omelet, 



70 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

although there is no longer a Madame Poulard 
and a syndicate, which bought the right to use her 
name, now runs a big inn and makes precisely the 
same sort of an omelet that is made in other inns 
all over France. 

The guidebooks advise tourists to visit the Mont 
on week-days, because on Sundays it is over- 
crowded with excursionists. If the crowd on Sun- 
days is any larger than it was on the Monday of 
our visit this advice surely should be heeded. The 
rock literally swarmed with tourists ; omelets were 
cooked in the syndicate inns in relays of a hundred 
at a time, and still we had to wait an hour for our 
turn; the steep steps leading up to the Abbey on 
the top of the Mont were so crowded,~bnly the 
superb view we knew was to be had from the sum- 
mit induced us to persist in elbowing our way 
through the jam of people. "We enjoyed the view 
and were interested in the old church built nine 
hundred years ago, but every train across the dike 
brought fresh crowds of tourists, so that we were 
soon glad to get away. We had to traverse the 
dike again to reach the mainland ; then at Pontor- 
sen we went west thirty miles to St. Malo on the 
coast of Brittany. When Arthur Young rode on 
his blind mare along this same road in 1788 he 
wrote this paragraph in his diary as he crossed 
into Brittany at Pontorsen : 




THE GET-THERE APPROACHING MONT MICHEL; THE 
SPECTRE WINDMILL IS A TRICK OF THE CAMERA 



Off for Normandy 71 

"Brittainy, a miserable provence, the people almost as "wild 
as their country, and their town of Combourg one of the most 
brutal, filthy places that can be seen. Mud houses, no windows, 
yet there is a cheteau and inhabited by one that has nerves 
strong enough for a residence amidst such filth and poverty." 



Combourg to-day is a tidy, prosperous town of 
six thousand people. Brittany is the very opposite 
of a "miserable provence''; the people look any- 
thing but wild ; there are no mud houses, and there 
are plenty of windows. Only the chateau remains 
the same as in Young's day — the chateau where 
Chr eaubriand was born ; his boyhood days there 
are described in his "Memoires d 'outre Tombe." 
Yes,- verily, the modern traveler has difficulty in 
recognizing Brittany from Arthur Young's de- 
scription ; but the English squire wrote the above 
paragraph in 1788, and many things have hap- 
pened since then to alter the condition of France 
and of the French people. 



CHAPTER V 

St. Malo. — Rennes, Angers, Saumur and Tours. — We visit the 
chateaux of Chenonceau, Loches and Amboise — Interesting 
reminiscences of Louis XI and other French kings. 

Q^T. MALO, its steep-roofed houses and turrets 
^ and towers just peeping above the prodigious 
wall which encircles the town, is so picturesque, 
so romantic, so unlike prosaic twentieth-century 
cities, as we approached it that summer day, we 
felt as if we were looking, not at a real city, but at 
the creation of a maker of stage scenery. On the 
side of the town abutting the sea the wall is sixty 
feet high ; at its lowest point it is about thirty feet 
high; at intervals there are massive stone towers 
forty feet in diameter. 

We made a complete circuit of the city on top 
of this huge wall and got splendid views of coun- 
try, city and sea. In some places we were on a 
level with the second stories of the houses and 
could look through the windows into the rooms and 
see the home life of the people; at other places, 
where the wall was sixty feet high, we looked down 
on the roofs of the city on the one side, while on 

72 



The Chateau Country 73 

the other side we could see far below us hundreds 
of people bathing in the sea, or basking on the 
sand. Half a mile out from shore we saw the islet 
in the solid rock of which was hewn a tomb for 
Chateaubriand. Chateaubriand was born at St. 
Malo, and in his will he asked that his remains be 
buried on the rock where he had played as a boy. 

Although it is half a mile from shore, at low tide 
this rock can be reached on foot, so far does the 
ocean recede at low tide. The difference between 
high and low tide at St. Malo is forty-nine feet, 
and so, as may be imagined, at low tide an im- 
mense tract is uncovered ; but when the tide turns, 
it rolls in with terrible velocity, destroying any 
one unlucky enough to be in its path. It seemed to 
us a foolhardy thing to walk to the islet and take 
chances of destruction by a change in the tide, so 
we contented ourselves with a long-distance look 
at Chateaubriand's tomb through our field glasses. 

Pent up within high walls, St. Malo 's streets are 
of necessity very narrow and very crooked, but 
near one of the gates the inevitable open space has 
been made, and, as is usual in French towns, the 
place is surrounded by cafes, each with its music 
and its chairs and its little round tables out on the 
sidewalk. Although the keenest rivalry exists be- 
tween the different cafes, one having an orchestra 
of pretty Viennese women, another an Hungarian 
band, a third singers and vaudeville dancers, a 



74 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

fourth a moving picture show, they, fortunately 
for the peace and welfare of the town, respect each 
other's artists and do not all play at the same 
time; the Viennese girls in number two wait till 
the Hungarians in number one finish before they 
begin, and the singers in number three wouldn't 
dream of sounding a note until the Austrian ladies 
lay down their flutes and fiddles. This arrange- 
ment means music nearly all the time, but it also 
means you do not have to listen to four different 
kinds of music at the same time, which of the two 
would certainly be the greater evil. 

The Place Chateaubriand of St. Malo is so small, 
the cafes are so close together, we did not have to 
move in order to hear the different bands. From 
our seats on the sidewalk in front of one cafe we 
listened to the music of all of them as we ate an 
ice and watched the passing procession of tourists 
and townspeople ; the former we could distinguish 
not only by their dress and appearance, but also 
by their mad haste to buy picture post cards. No 
matter what the main business of a shop may be, it 
is sure to carry picture cards as a side line, and no 
matter where you go to dine, t)e it inside the shop 
or outside on the pavement, you will have men 
poking picture cards at you from soup to coffee, 
and importuning you to buy. From a fad it has 
become a fanaticism, and the business has grown 
to prodigious proportions; the sale of stamps for 



The Chateau Country 75 

mailing these cards has become an important 
source of revenue to the postal departments of 
European states frequented by tourists. 

Of his horseback ride from St. Malo to Kennes, 
Arthur Young wrote in his diary : 

"To Rennes: The same strange, wild mixture of desert and 
cultivation, one-half savage, one-half human." 

We found it all cultivation and all human, 
though it must be admitted that the country af- 
fords no particular interest to the tourist, conse- 
quently there was no temptation to dally, and the 
forty-four miles between the two cities were cov- 
ered in a trifle over an hour. Arthur Young took 
two days to ride over the same road on his blind 
mare. 

Rennes is a quiet, sleepy city, almost as quiet 
and sleepy as Pisa, which is putting it strongly, 
as any traveler will agree who has ever been in 
the town of the leaning tower. Few tourists go to 
Rennes, and there is really no reason why they 
should go; we stopped there mainly because we 
wanted to deliver a letter of introduction which 
we bore to the Comte de F., father of our French 
teacher in the Berlitz school. There is one Ameri- 
can in Rennes, a Mr. Hopkins, who for some rea- 
son wanted profound quiet, and so went to the an- 
cient capital of Brittany to reside ; but on the day 
of our visit Mr. Hopkins was out of town, and we 



76 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

were the only persons in Eennes who spoke the 
English language. It was a case of Berlitz French 
or silence, and as nothing is to be learned if one 
does not talk and ask questions, we proceeded to 
murder French verbs, nouns and genders in a way 
that shocked the Comte de F. and perhaps inspired 
no confidence in the ability of his son as a teacher, 
or in our ability as pupils. However, we under- 
stood one another after a fashion and managed to 
spend a profitable hour visiting the public gardens 
(the finest gardens in Eennes, and among the finest 
in France) and the Lycee where Dreyfus was tried 
and condemned in 1899. We saw the prison where 
Dreyfus was taken on his return from Devil's 
Island and the room in the Lycee where he re- 
ceived his second condemnation. The world's eyes 
were on Eennes and on that room in August, 1899, 
but now both Eennes and Dreyfus are forgotten. 

The Comte de F. showed us where the guillotine 
stood during the Terror — the spot is at least two 
hundred yards from the river, but the Comte said 
the executions were so numerous that blood flowed 
in a rivulet down the street gutter from the guil- 
lotine all the way to the Eiver Vilaine. As fright- 
ful as was the slaughter that dreadful year, it 
would have been still worse but for the bravery of 
Leperdit, Eennes' mayor during the Eevolution. 
At Nantes, seventy miles away, the infamous Car- 
rier had invented a simple but expeditious method 



The Chateau Country 77 

of murdering by wholesale ; hundreds of helpless 
men and women were put in barges which were 
then scuttled and sunk in the river. In this way 
more people could be killed in two minutes than 
could be guillotined in two days. So ferocious was 
the temper of the times, Carrier was applauded 
for his "invention" and was given extended au- 
thority by the Committee of Public Safety at 
Paris. The first thing he did after receiving his 
commission was to send a long list of citizens to 
the mayor of Kennes with orders that they be put 
in the holds of boats, the hatchways then nailed 
down and the boats sunk in the Vilaine. Leperdit 
tore Carrier's list to pieces and refused to execute 
his orders — a bold thing to do in that year of the 
Terror, but he succeeded. And in memory of his 
deed the city erected his statue in one of its public 
squares. Leperdit is represented standing erect, 
head thrown back, a look of defiance in his eyes 
and in his hands Carrier's list of the proscribed 
which Leperdit has just torn in pieces. 

Leaving Eennes the next morning, we arrived at 
Angers, eighty- two miles distant, at eleven o'clock, 
quite early enough to have proceeded on to Tours, 
but one look at Angers' old castle decided us to 
postpone further travel till the morrow. The 
castle walls are fifteen feet thick and on the side 
abutting the river are one hundred and fifty-six 
feet high. We spent the entire afternoon rambling 



78 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

about this wonderful old ruin, going down into its 
dungeons and up on the summits of its towers, 
whence is a noble view of the city spread out below 
and of the Eiver Main spanned by a massive stone 
bridge. 

The Castle of Angers, built seven hundred years 
ago on a huge rock above the Main, was for many 
centuries one of the most powerful feudal strong- 
holds in Europe. Its walls were so massive and 
its moats so wide and deep it was as impregnable 
as Gibraltar, until modern artillery changed the 
art of war. Stone walls and wide moats, no mat- 
ter how immense, afford little protection against 
Krupp cannon that throw thousand-pound shells 
a dozen miles; so in recent years the castle has 
been allowed to fall into decay. 

At the Grand Hotel in Angers we had an enor- 
mous room with a bed of state even more gorgeous 
than that in which we had slept at Bayeux. A high 
canopy overhung our heads and there were rich 
green velour curtains draping the sides. And 
here, too, the bed was so high that we had to use a 
chair to climb into it. The windows of the room 
opened upon a balcony looking down upon the 
Place de Ealliement, and after dinner we sat on 
that balcony and watched several thousand people 
massed in the square below us. They were gazing 
upon motion pictures which were being cast on a 




THE CHATEAU AT ANGERS: THE WALLS ARE FIFTEEN 
FEET THICK 



The Chateau Country 79 

screen on one of the buildings at the farther end 
of the square. 

From Angers we went to Tours, driving most of 
the way on top of the Levee de la Loire, a huge 
embankment first built in the ninth century, eleven 
hundred years ago ; that July day the levee seemed 
to us unnecessary, the Loire was so quiet, so peace- 
ful, but during the spring floods the river, so 
nearly dry the day we drove for forty miles along 
its banks, becomes a raging torrent, and huge as 
is the embankment there have been occasions when 
it was hot large enough to protect the country from 
frightful inundations. 

As we passed through Saumur early in the 
afternoon we saw a crowd of people surging into 
a side street, making for a field enclosed by grand- 
stands and high fences. ' ' Let us see what it is all 
about/ ' I said, and Beamer agreed. We were not 
trying to make any speed records. We did not 
have to go to Tours if we didn't want to. So, turn- 
ing off the main road and following the crowd, 
presently we found ourselves in front of the en- 
closed field. Thousands of people were entering 
the gate, but they had tickets. As we had none we 
were about to resume our journey to Tours when 
an officer, who had seen the ticket-takers turn us 
away, approached and saluted : 

"Vous voudrez entrer?" (You wish to enter? 
You wish to witness the exercises?) 



80 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

We did not know what the exercises were, but 
whatever they were we wished to see them. 

"Then permit me, Monsieur and Madame, to 
have the honor of conducting you." 

We "permitted" him, and this time we were not 
turned away from the gate. The officer must have 
been a man of importance, for when the ticket ta- 
kers saw in whose charge we now were they bowed 
obsequiously and opened the gate for us to enter. 
Five minutes later we were in the staff officers' 
private stand, surveying one of the great military 
sights of Europe — the annual cavalry maneuvers 
of Saumur. Five hundred of the flower of the 
French cavalry officers, seated upon the very finest 
horses — horses selected to harmonize in color with 
the different-colored trimmings and uniforms of 
their riders — were maneuvering in the field in front 
of us. The officers, in immaculate and resplendent 
uniforms, carried lances and pennants; it was a 
gay and gallant sight to see their horses galloping 
around the field, leaping hurdles, rearing on their 
hind legs or dashing madly forward while their 
riders threw away their lances, drew their sabers 
and struck fiercely at the heads of dummy soldiers 
which had been planted in various parts of the 
field. 

After these maneuvers a park of artillery came 
whirling into the great square and divided into 
two hostile camps, one at either end of the field; 



The Chateau Country 81 

then a fierce cannonade began. After that there 
was a cavalry charge and the earth fairly trembled 
as those thousands of hoofs struck the ground and 
sabers clashed against sabers, and helmets and 
breastplates glistened in the sun as the men of 
the two opposing lines came rushing together. On 
the stand with us were officers from Kussia, Eng- 
land, Austria, Italy and America, detailed by their 
governments to study these maneuvers at Sau- 
mur : we had not been detailed by anybody to see 
them. An hour ago we did not know there were 
any maneuvers, yet there we were with majors, 
colonels and generals — partly because of the offi- 
cer's courtesy, but mainly because of our faithful 
Get-There, which was bound by no time-table, by 
no schedules, which was always ready to take us 
wherever interest and adventure lay. 

The hours spent in watching those interesting 
exercises at Saumur meant a night arrival at 
Tours ; but we did not hurry on that account. Our 
lunch basket was full, and just before sunset we 
pulled the Get-There to the side of the road on top 
of the levee, and there on the bank of the Loire 
we ate our supper picnic fashion; then we lighted 
the gas lamps and went on to Tours. 

All motorists who go to Tours go to the Hotel 
de l'TJnivers, but they don't all stop there, for 
even though you wire ahead for rooms, often you 
will not get one, so popular, so crowded in the 



82 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

season is this noted hostelry. The polite proprie- 
tor was " desolated' ' at not being able to entertain 
us, but every apartment was taken — so what could 
he do? Obviously nothing, so after looking at the 
score or more of touring automobiles in his court- 
yard, and at Balzac's statue in front of his hotel, 
we rode off to seek other quarters, and we got 
them at the Hotel de la Boule d'Or — a modest inn, 
not half so luxurious as the Hotel de l'Univers, but 
neither was it half so expensive. Our large room 
looking out on Tours' main street cost $1.60 a 
day; " little breakfast" cost twenty-five cents, and 
an excellent dinner with wine was served for 
eighty cents. No charge was made for storing the 
Get-There — a total, therefore, of less than four 
dollars a day for the two of us — not dear for a 
" tourist' ' town in the height of the season. 

Tours, the ancient capital of Touraine, now a 
busy city of seventy thousand inhabitants, is the 
center of the celebrated Chateau country ; we made 
it our headquarters for several days, driving each 
morning over delightful roads to first one, then to 
another of the noted chateaux, and returned to 
Tours in the evening. Chenonceau, the first cha- 
teau visited, twenty miles from Tours, is not open 
to visitors between noon and two o'clock; as we ar- 
rived there at one o 'clock we had to wait an hour in 
front of the big wrought-iron gate which opens 
into the shaded avenue leading to the chateau a 



The Chateau Country 83 

quarter of a mile inside the park. The Get-There 
stopped under the shade of a big tree a few yards 
outside the gate, and, while we sat there reading 
of the kings and queens who once reveled in the 
castle we were about to visit, an American, who 
had walked from the station and who had been 
observing us several minutes from a little dis- 
tance, suddenly approached and said : 

"Pardon me, sir, but aren't you the man who 
told us how to see Europe on fifty cents a day?" 

"Guilty!" I replied. "How did you know it?" 

"From the resemblance to the photograph of 
you in your ' Tramp Trip.' " As the photograph 
reproduced in that book was taken in St. Peters- 
burg twenty-five years ago, the American's answer 
astonished me. "You have changed, of course," 
he said. ' ' Still, the resemblance is there. And now 
I wish both to thank and to revile you. For while 
your book gave me great pleasure and was what 
prompted my first European trip, yet the promise 
you gave of seeing Europe on fifty cents a day 
was a delusion and a snare. I simply couldn't do 
it. I had to cable my father for funds." 

"JBut I did it. Perhaps you were not willing to 
sleep on the ground and live on macaroni!" 

"I fear that was the reason," answered the 
American, smiling ; then pointing to the Get-There 
he added: "And I see you, too, are not repeating 
the experiment." 



84 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

I admitted the truth of this remark, but I did not 
tell him just what it was costing us to see Europe 
by automobile. Like most people, including our- 
selves until personal experience showed the error, 
the American thought that motoring meant unlim- 
ited means. He imagined that since my tramp 
days fortune had smiled upon me and made me a 
millionaire. 

Chenonceau, now owned by a rich Cuban named 
Terry, was once the residence of France 's kings ; 
Francis I lived here, so did Mary Queen of Scots 
and her first husband, Francois II, and Diana of 
Poitiers, mistress of Henry II. Diana's portrait 
still hangs on one of the walls of the chateau ; if it 
is a correct likeness she was far from good look- 
ing, but she must have seemed good in Henri's 
eyes, for he loved her devotedly and made her a 
present of this magnificent castle. However, in 
those days title deeds counted little with kings; 
no sooner was her royal protector dead than Diana 
was forced to retire from Chenonceau and to 
give up the place to Catherine de Medici. Near 
Diana's picture, which represents her as a homely 
woman with small, half-shut, evil-squinting eyes, 
is a likeness of Louis XV in his youth — a hand- 
some, boyish face framed in a wig of long curly 
hair and lighted by a pair of bright, smiling eyes — 
a far different Louis from the debauchee he after- 
ward became, far different from the man who died 



The Chateau Country 85 

of smallpox in the Tuileries, deserted even by the 
cringing sycophants of his court. 

Chenonceau 's huge pile extends clear across the 
Eiver Cher, supported on stone piers and arches. 
From the windows of the apartments over the 
river there is an enchanting view of the magnifi- 
cent gardens and of the noble forest which sur- 
rounds the castle. The servant who conducted us 
through the place said it cost Mr. Terry a million 
francs merely to restore the gardens; what the 
castle itself cost he did not say, but it must have 
been many millions. 

The Chateau of Loches, to which we rode across 
country from Chenonceau, has not had the fortune 
to be restored by a Cuban millionaire, but it is for 
that very reason the more interesting; for at 
Loches you get a glimpse of feudal France, while 
at Chenonceau you see a magnificent, modern look- 
ing pile and must rely upon reading and imagina- 
tion to associate it with great events in history. 
Had nothing else been worth while at Loches the 
description of the place which the keeper of the 
Donjon gave would have alone repaid us for the 
visit. Few Frenchmen are noted for phlegmatic 
calm, and this particular Frenchman excelled even 
his own countrymen in dramatic force and fire. 
When Beamer lagged behind a moment to look at 
a certain statue, and when the Donjon keeper 



86 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

turned and saw what it was that detained her, a 
look of genuine distress came into his eyes. 

" 'Oh, Madame, moderne modeme. Do not look 
at that, c'est moderne!" (that is modern!) 

It was as if he had seen a woman about to be 
swindled by some conscienceless fraud — a thing 
from which it was his duty as a chivalrous French- 
man to rescue her, and so he repeated "Moderne, 
moderne!" as one who by that single word 
had torn the mask from an impostor. Beamer 
turned from the "modern" statue (which, by the 
way, was several hundred years old), a guilty look 
on her face, as if realizing the gravity of her of- 
fense, and from that time on she looked on only 
such things as had the approval of our critical 
guide. In the dungeon he showed us the sundial 
and the writing on the wall made by the wretched 
Duke of Milan during the nine years he was im- 
prisoned within those gloomy walls. Beneath the 
duke's dungeon is a cave in which two bishops 
were once immured for five years ; the guide held 
his lantern close to the wall so we could see the 
inscriptions made by the bishops — they were re- 
ligious phrases, and there were rudely carved 
crosses and altars on the walls. The duke above 
seems not to have thought of religious subjects; 
while the bishops in their subterranean prison 
were thinking of a future heaven so as to forget a 
present hell, the Duke of Milan was dreaming of 



The Chateau Country 87 

war, of the roar of cannon, of the crash of mus- 
ketry, the flash of swords on the field of battle. 
The duke's dreams were never realized, for he 
died in prison. Whether the two bishops fared 
any better in their dream of going to heaven is a 
question which, of course, history can not answer. 
Near the duke's and the bishops' prison is the 
big round tower in which Louis XI kept Cardinal 
de la Balue in an iron cage suspended in midair 
by a rope depending from the roof. The crafty, 
cruel Louis used to go to the tower to watch the 
cardinal cooped up in his cage, and to taunt him 
and ask him how he liked it, and if he wasn't glad 
he had invented the contrivance — for it was the 
cardinal himself who had invented the cage and 
who had induced Louis to confine Philippe de Co- 
mines, the historian, in it. In a way, there was 
poetic justice in the cardinal's being caged in his 
own invention — but what a diabolical old scoun- 
drel was Louis to sit there in that tower and watch 
his victim's torture ! The cage was so constructed 
that the miserable cardinal could neither stand nor 
lie down; he was forced to crouch in a huddled 
heap, his knees drawn up near his face. That he 
survived such torture year after year is a striking 
proof of the endurance and tenacity of the animal 
we call man ! For a while wherever Louis went he 
carried that cage and the cardinal with him. He 
took it to Angers, to St. Malo, to Mont St. Michel 



88 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

— in fact, he seemed so fond of watching the cardi- 
nal's misery that the cage was made a regular 
part of his baggage, when he traveled, as is the 
bird cage of a woman who will not leave home 
without her canary ! 

On returning from Loches to Tours the octroi 
officer was solicitous about only one thing — did we 
have any whisky? If so, we would have to pay a 
tax. I assured the officer that chauffeurs do not 
drink whisky, that it would not be safe for thern to 
drink it ; it might make them over-merry, and over- 
merry chauffeurs are liable to try to climb trees 
with their automobiles and to do other strange 
things. "No, indeed, Monsieur," I concluded, 
"we have no use for whisky. We don't drink it, 
and we haven't a drop of it in our auto." 

"In that case, Monsieur, you have the right to 
proceed," said the officer, with a flourish of his 
hand, as if to say, "Welcome to our city!" And 
presently we were back at the Hotel de la Boule 
d'Or, ready for dinner after our day's sightseeing 
and our seventy-eight miles of motoring from one 
chateau to another. 

From Tours we went over a road on top of a 
dike along the Loire to Amboise, a town of five 
thousand inhabitants. There we stopped long 
enough for the Get-There to climb the steep, wind- 
ing street leading to the famous castle where Mary 
Queen of Scots and her husband, Francois II, also 




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@ W 

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H O 

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The Chateau Country 89 

Catherine De Medici, the mother of Francois II, 
and his brothers, afterward Charles IX and 
Henri III, sat on a raised platform overlooking the 
courtyard to witness the butchery of twelve hun- 
dred Huguenots. From that courtyard, now a 
smiling garden, we looked down upon the roofs of 
the houses in Amboise and upon the River Loire 
and the fields beginning to yellow with their ripen- 
ing harvest. And all was so beautiful, so quiet, so 
peaceful, it was difficult to realize the frightful 
scene that was once enacted there. 

What strange notions of pleasure those kings 
and queens had ! Fancy any one to-day seating 
himself from choice on a platform to see twelve 
hundred human beings butchered! The thing is 
now inconceivable outside cannibal land or Ethio- 
pia. Tyrants there may be to-day, somewhere in 
the world, who condemn innocent men to death, 
but where is even the tyrant who, having ordered 
men to be killed, invites his friends to sit with him 
and watch his victims' death struggles? Yes, in 
the language of Parson Jasper of Virginia, "The 
world do move!" It has moved far, very far, 
since Mary and Francois and Catherine de Medici 
watched the murder of those twelve hundred Hu- 
guenots in the great courtyard of the castle at 
Amboise ! 

In that charming story of the Williamsons, the 
"Lightning Conductor," Molly Randolph writes 



90 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

her father that she motored right into the castle 
at Amboise and that the custodian exclaimed : 

" To-day is the first time that an automobile has 
ever been inside these gates. Therefore, Made- 
moiselle, you have just been making history ! ' ' 

Beamer suggested that we imitate the " Light- 
ning Conductor" and drive the Get-There right 
into the castle. Although the road that winds up 
from Amboise is very steep and very narrow it is 
not absolutely impossible for a motor-car. And, 
arrived at the tower, that, too, with its spiral in- 
clined plane in lieu of stairs, is not wholly impos- 
sible, providing the automobile be a small one. 
Nevertheless, I demurred to Beamer's suggestion; 
it was a foolhardy, if not an altogether impossible, 
thing to do. So we left the Get-There outside the 
gates and entered on foot. And well it was we did 
this, for the custodian assured us we would have 
landed in jail had we attempted such sacrilege as 
to introduce a motor-car into the chateau's his- 
toric precincts. "But you let Molly Bandolph's 
Lightning Conductor motor into the chateau's 
court!" exclaimed Beamer. The custodian looked 
puzzled. We explained what the Williamsons had 
written, and then the custodian shrugged his 
shoulders. 

1 ' Bah ! " he said. ' ' That 's only a romance ! No 
automobile has ever passed through these gates." 

Thus, from my prosaic point of view, was a 



The Chateau Country 91 

charming episode in the Williamson story turned 
from fact into fiction; but Bearaer's faith was not 
disturbed by the custodian's statement. "He's a 
stupid old fossil," she declared. "His memory is 
no better than a mummy's. I am going to keep on 
believing in the Lightning Conductor." 



CHAPTER VI 

Some more chateaux. — Blois. — Chambord. — Orleans.-— Versailles. 
— Singular adventure in the Forest of the Trianon. 

/^UR next excursion from Tours was to Blois, 
^-^ where is perhaps the most interesting of all 
the chateaux. The cheerful Catherine de Medici, 
who planned the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 
used to live at the Chateau of Blois and visitors 
are shown the secret cabinet entered by a sliding 
panel in the wall where Catherine kept her stock 
of poison. Although that cheerful queen was quite 
successful in engineering massacres, she some- 
times had the desire to remove people without any 
fuss or disturbance, and then she would go to her 
little cabinet and get out a nice dose of poison and 
give it to the person to be removed. And in this 
way everything was done quietly and decently and 
pleasantly. Near-by was a trap-door in the floor, 
through which the ' ' removed ' ' person was thrown 
down into the river below. In this way the body 
floated away without giving Catherine further 
trouble. 

The only drawback was, when people found out 

92 



From Blois to Versailles 93 

about this trait in Catherine's character it made 
them crabbed and suspicious and unwilling to eat 
or drink anything that she had had a chance to 
doctor. It was because of this suspicious disposi- 
tion that Diana of Poitiers escaped death by 
poison. Catherine fixed the poison all right, but 
Diana refused to take it. The Duke de Guise 
also avoided the poison offered him, and then it 
was that Catherine planned a first-class assassi- 
nation. She got her son, Henri III, to send for the 
duke. He responded to the king's summons, and 
visitors to Blois are shown the spot where the duke 
stood in the audience chamber, his elbow resting 
on the mantel, waiting for the king; and as he 
stood there waiting, Catherine's assassins crept up 
from behind and plunged their daggers in his 
back. To make assurance doubly sure Catherine 
had ordered two priests to pray for the success of 
her little murder, and at the moment that the dag- 
ger blows were struck the priests were on their 
knees, in the oratory near-by, praying for the suc- 
cess of Catherine's plans. 

Catherine's son, Henri III, who had been watch- 
ing the murder from behind portieres, when the 
deed was done, walked up to the dead duke and 
kicked him in the face. Meanwhile the assassins 
went down into the dungeon, where the duke's 
brother was imprisoned, and stuck their daggers 
into him, too ; yea, verily, that was a cheerful age, 



94 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

and Catherine de Medici and her sons were cheer- 
ful people — to keep away from. Arthur Young, 
who visited the Chateau of Blois on September 
11th, 1787, wrote on that date this dry comment: 

"The murders, or political executions, perpetrated in this 
castle, though not uninteresting, were inflicted on, and "by, men 
that command neither our love nor our veneration. The char- 
acter of the period and of the men that figure in it were alike 
disgusting. * * * The parties could hardly be better employed 
than in cutting each other's throats! " 

Chambord, the next chateau visited, is situated 
in a park containing twenty square miles of for- 
ests, gardens and drives. From the main entrance 
of this great estate a broad, straight road, shaded 
on each side by tall trees, leads to the chateau, the 
largest edifice of its kind in France, with the most 
imposing exterior and the most perfect setting. 
To seem in keeping with so vast a pile, it is neces- 
sary that the surrounding estate should be laid out 
on large lines. As you drive up from the gate you 
see the chateau in the distance, a mile or two away, 
at the head of a broad avenue which runs through 
the forest. It is a noble perspective one gets on 
entering the park; you look down between two 
rows of tall trees at a huge castle with hundreds 
of turrets and towers, some of them nearly two 
hundred feet high ; the castle has four hundred and 
forty apartments, and stables for twelve hundred 
horses. Napoleon gave Chambord to one of his 



From Blois to Versailles 95 

marshals — Berthier, I believe — and thereby did 
him a sorry service, for poor Berthier nearly 
broke his back trying to keep even a corner of the 
palace habitable. It is conceived on too grand a 
scale to be kept up by any man not possessed of the 
revenues of a nation, or the income of a Wall 
Street captain of high finance. And so to-day it is 
uninhabited — a lonely reminder of an age and a 
regime which passed away with the coming of the 
French Eevolution. 

The wide staircase at Chambord, celebrated for 
its convenience and ingenuity, is so arranged that 
people can go up and go down at the same time 
without meeting one another — a fine thing in the 
days when the whole court of Paris was brought 
to Chambord, and when thousands of gorgeously 
dressed women and dashing cavaliers thronged the 
huge castle. The stream of returning guests did 
not meet, or even see, those who were coming up 
the stairs. In the theater on the second story of 
the chateau some of Moliere's greatest plays were 
given their first performance in the presence of 
Louis XIV and his court. The Grand Monarque 
has long since vanished from earth, a mere page, 
or at most a chapter, in history; but Moliere's 
plays still live, and will continue to live as long as 
wit and sarcasm and poetic genius command the 
homage of men. 

Old castles seem to be Touraine's principal "in- 



96 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

dustry"; there are so many of tliern, one could 
pass the whole summer in the country about Blois 
without seeing them all, but our time was limited, 
so after the visit to Chambord we went on to Or- 
leans, where, of course, the chief "industry" is 
Joan of Arc. The principal street bears her name, 
the largest square has in its center her statue on 
horseback, and every shop has her pictures for 
sale. It has been nearly five hundred years since 
Joan raised the siege of Orleans and drove the 
English away, but the event is still celebrated 
every year by a great festival on the seventh and 
eighth of May. 

While strolling through the old part of the town 
we saw on a narrow street a hoary old house which 
in 1429 was the city's finest hotel ; a tablet over the 
door records the fact that Joan of Arc stopped 
there during the English siege, and that when the 
English were gone Charles VII made a sojourn in 
the same apartment "in honor of the Maid of Or- 
leans. ' ' Dingy as the house now looks, had it been 
still open for guests we, too, would have shown our 
respect for the Maid of Orleans by "making a 
sojourn in her apartment.' ' But the building has 
long since ceased to be used as a hotel. 

The seventy-five-mile run from Blois had been 
made in three hours, so that even after stopping to 
see the sights of Orleans it was still too early in 
the day to think of looking for night quarters. 



From Blois to Versailles 97 

Versailles was only seventy-three miles away and 
we decided to make that city the end of the day's 
run. On the way thither we passed a number of 
traveling notion stores — big wagons stocked with 
dry goods, tinwares and groceries. While en route 
these wagons are closed, but on arriving at a vil- 
lage the sides are let down, forming counters upon 
which are displayed the owner's stock of goods. 
In the top of the wagon, above the stock of goods, 
is a compartment containing a thin mattress upon 
which sleep the owner and his family. These itin- 
erant merchants go from one end of France to the 
other, replenishing their stocks in the large cities 
and selling them in peasant villages where there 
are no dry goods stores. The idea would be a good 
one to adopt for our American farmers, but were 
any one to attempt to carry a small store on wheels 
to the rural districts of the United States it is safe 
to say the wagon would be stuck in the mud be- 
fore it got to the first farm. In France there is 
no danger of this ; regardless of the weather, the 
itinerant storekeeper knows that his big wagon 
can roll along over hard, smooth roads, no matter 
whether he is in the center of the country or in its 
remotest regions, among the Alps or the Pyrenees. 
"While talking with the proprietor of one of these 
moving stores an automobile came up and the 
driver stopped to see what was the matter; he 
thought we were in trouble. 



98 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"Nothing like that in the Get-There family," I 
said, whereat a man beside the chauffeur laughed 
and said : 

"Your talk sounds mighty like United States 
English." 

"So does yours," I answered, "but your auto- 
mobile doesn't look like a home product." 

And it wasn't. The American explained that he 
had rented it in Paris for $25 a day ; it was not to 
travel in a day more than fifty miles, except upon 
payment of an additional fee, and when it came 
to a hill it had to stop to let the motor cool. The 
encounter with this American pleased us not only 
because it was agreeable to have a chat with a 
fellow-countryman, but also because the sight of 
that twenty-five-dollar-a-day automobile, that had 
to cool off before it could climb a hill, made us 
contented and proud of the Get-There. 

Even with a number of short stops in villages 
and on the roadside, and with one long stop in 
Orleans, the hundred and forty-eight miles be- 
tween Tours and Versailles were covered in eight 
hours, so that we arrived in Versailles in the after- 
noon in time to see the big fountains play; for it 
happened to be on one of the two days in the month 
that the water is turned on in the gardens of the 
chateau. From the second-story windows of the 
palace we looked down upon a crowd of fifty thou- 
sand people gathered to see the fountains; there 



From Blois to Versailles 99 

were no "keep-off-the-grass" signs; not only the 
walks and roads, but also the lawns of the sunken 
gardens and the broad, grassy avenue that con- 
nects the palace with the artificial lake were 
swarming with men, women and children. When 
the fountains ceased playing at six o'clock Beam- 
er, fatigued by her long ride, returned to the 
hotel, where we had secured quarters — the Hotel 
des Reservoirs, a stone's throw from the great 
palace. As I was not tired, I set forth to revisit 
the forest of the Petit Trianon, where poor Marie 
Antoinette used to play at being a dairymaid. 

On previous visits I had seen the Trianon and 
its Musee des Voitures containing Napoleon's car- 
riages, consequently this time I passed all that by 
and went direct to the forest. The little hamlet of 
ten or twelve thatched huts and the rustic mill 
where the young queen passed perhaps the only 
happy hours she ever knew in France, is in a re- 
mote part of the park; at no time so overrun by 
tourists as are the more accessible gardens of the 
palace — at the hour I went there it was entirely 
deserted. Throwing myself on a pile of leaves 
which had been heaped up under a tree by one of 
the caretakers of the forest, I lay there resting a 
few yards away from the little hut where Marie 
Antoinette sold milk to her courtiers, a few yards 
away from the room where she slept, and from the 



100 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

toy mill where she played at being a miller's maid 
and occasionally ground a measure of corn. 

And while resting there, dreaming of the 
strange things once done in that rustic hamlet, I 
fell asleep and, more fatigued than I had imag- 
ined, I did not awake for several hours; then 
it was so dark I could not see, and for a moment 
I was puzzled at finding myself alone in the night 
on a pile of leaves under a tree. Presently, how- 
ever, becoming accustomed to the darkness, I per- 
ceived the outlines of the deserted mill and the 
thatched huts and realized where I was. Striking 
a match and looking at my watch, I was amazed 
to find that it was midnight ! Beamer, of course, 
did not know where I was and naturally would be 
worried. I sprang to my feet with the intention 
of hurrying back to the Hotel des Reservoirs to 
reassure her, but this was a thing easier to resolve 
than to do, for within five minutes I realized that 
I was hopelessly lost in the woods. 

While hurrying first one way, then another, try- 
ing to find the way out, I almost collided with a 
man muffled up in a greatcoat. On the man's head 
was a cocked hat, and at his side hung a sword — 
rather a curious make-up, but in Europe people 
often wear odd costumes, so I thought nothing of 
this man's unusual garb; I took him to be one of 
the forest watchmen and asked him if he knew the 
way out. 



From Blois to Versailles 101 

"Sir," replied the man muffled up in the great- 
coat, "no one knows the way out of this forest 
better than I. It is I who laid out these walks 
and drives.' ' 

"Ah, a forester, not a watchman," I thought, 
and asked him to be good enough to show me the 
gate. 

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," re- 
plied the man. "It is bad enough to have the rab- 
ble here in the day without having them at night, 
which is the only time when the owner of this place 
is at liberty to visit it. Follow me this way to the 
gate." 

But I was too astonished to move. 

"What do you mean by that?" I demanded. 
"Who is the owner of this forest?" 

The man shrugged his shoulders. 

"I, of course. Pray, who else has better title? 
Was it not I who built yonder palace? Who laid 
out its gardens, who constructed these walks and 
drives ? It is mine, all mine, yet I find shopkeepers 
and clerks — aye, even common laborers, tramp- 
ing over the polished floors of my chateau and 
sprawling on the lawn of my gardens. Doubtless 
you noticed the crowds this afternoon — larger 
than usual because of the fountains. In my day 
those fountains played only for me — for me and 
the guests I invited." 



102 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"For you?" I exclaimed. "In Heaven's name, 
who are you?" 

"I am the shade of Louis XIV, ' ' replied the 
man, calmly. 

I stared at him in amazement ; he had the high, 
aquiline nose of the Bourbons, the same enormous 
wig, even the same haughty air which distin- 
guished the Grand Monarque. But this man 
Louis XIV? Preposterous! Louis had been dead 
nearly two hundred years. I told him so. 

" Monsieur,' ' returned the stranger, loftily, "a 
Grand Monarque never dies. I revisit my chateau 
and my gardens nightly, between midnight and 
dawn ; 'tis the only time I can come. Usually my 
visits are to my old apartments in the palace, but 
to-night it was so warm I strolled here to get a 
breath of fresh air, and to see the farm of the wife 
of my unhappy great-great-great-grandson. Oh, 
of what folly, what monumental folly was that 
poor boy not guilty ! If his wife had attended to 
her business of queen instead of fooling here, if 
Louis had left making locks and keys alone and 
put his mind on being king, those beasts, the peo- 
ple, would have been kept in their places." 

Although this man called himself a shade he 
seemed to me to be rather real and husky, and 
from his talk I felt sure he was afflicted with hal- 
lucinations. Without heeding the mistrust which 



From Blois to Versailles 103 

I showed by edging away from him, he continued, 
more in soliloquy than as if talking to me : 

" There is nothing so disgusting to me as those 
acres of pictures of that upstart Napoleon which 
they have placed on the walls of my palace. Ah, 
if I could only do more than make midnight visits 
to my old home, how quickly the pictures of that 
vulgar Corsican would be torn from the walls and 
made into a bonfire ! Then, too, how sickening the 
words 'Liberte, Egalite, F rat emit e' ! They are 
bad enough anywhere, but carved over the very 
doors of my chateau — faugh, it is nauseating! 
That great-grandson of mine was a poor, weak 
fool. I would have known how to handle the 
rogues who came marching from Paris — a little 
powder and shot, a dash of cavalry, a few thou- 
sands of the rascals trampled under horses ' hoofs 
or slashed with dragoons' sabers — that would 
have made everything tranquil again I" 

The stranger said all this in a regretful but 
calm, even voice. I rubbed my eyes and pinched 
myself to see if I were really awake. We were 
walking slowly along as he spoke, and were now 
nearing the little mill from which I had started 
when I arose from my slumber on that bed of 
leaves under the tree. 

"Here is the farm where that unfortunate 
great-granddaughter of mine played at being a 
dairymaid," observed the man in the greatcoat. 



104 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"Many are the times on warm summer nights that 
I have watched her games here — a pretty picture 
she made, dressed as a peasant girl, passing fresh 
milk to the Due d 'Orleans or to the Marquis La- 
fayette, but how short a time it lasted ! It seemed 
but a few weeks between the last night I saw her 
in that hut yonder, laughing and chatting with the 
Marshal de Broligie, until I dropped in one night 
to see her at the tower and heard those miscreants 
in red caps calling her 'Citoyenne Capet'! Oh, 
how I wished for a day, one single day of my old 
self, to show those canaille their proper places! 
But alas ! I was only a shade and so had to look 
on in silence, powerless to lift a finger even when 
that dreadful day came when I stood on the Place 
de la Concorde (a sweet name, that, for such a 
place) and saw them butcher my great-grandson 
and his unhappy family ! Think of it, Monsieur, I, 
the Grand Monarque, was obliged to stand by in si- 
lence while that infamy was committed ! It so dis- 
gusted me, for many years I discontinued my 
nightly visits here. I could not bear to come as 
long as the son of that Corsican country lawyer 
occupied my throne and ruled over my people. 
During that painful period I confined myself en- 
tirely to my chateau at Chambord." 

"At Chambord?" I interrupted. 

1 ' Yes. Do you know the place 1 ' ' 



From Blois to Versailles 105 

< ' Why, I am just from there. I went all through 
the Chateau of Chambord yesterday." 

"Ah, then, you know what a noble structure it 
is, but it has fallen on evil times now — it has be- 
come a mere show-place for gaping sightseers. It 
was very different when I lived there. Did you 
see that engraving in the Grand Trianon, the one 
representing a hunt in the forest of Chambord? I 
gave that hunt. We had a hundred hounds in the 
chase and a thousand guests partook of the 
luncheon spread in the pavilion which my men 
erected in the heart of the forest. Ah, those were 
brave old days. I remember one morning when 
Moliere came down from Paris with his company 
of actors and presented his newest play. And, Mon- 
sieur, let me tell you he had a right royal audience 
to give him ear. No man of less rank than a mar- 
quis, and there were dozens of generals and dukes 
and marshals. Were Moliere to come now he 
would have to face a mob of lawyers and clerks 
and laborers. The last time I was at Chambord I 
saw such a mob, every man of them with a guide- 
book in his hand, nosing about my apartments, 
tramping over my polished floors. The sight suf- 
focated me!" 

I made some comment upon this ; to which, how- 
ever, the strange man in the greatcoat did not 
reply directly ; giving me a scrutinizing glance he 
said: 



106 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

1 ' Pray, tell me, sir, where have you acquired 
such execrable French V I told him in the Ber- 
litz School, but the answer seemed to convey no 
meaning to him. " 'Tis no matter/ ' he muttered. 
1 ' The times are so degenerate in other respects, it 
matters little whether a man's French be good or 
bad. Here is the gate and I pray you, sir, leave 
me. In these miserable days my palace, my gar- 
dens, my forests — all belong to the canaille, to the 
people. But in the small hours of the night, when 
all here is solemn and still, the mist of the long 
cycle of years rises, Marie Antoinette is again a 
happy queen, Louis is once more working at his 
locks, gallant dukes and pretty duchesses are once 
more making butter and grinding corn in yonder 
make-believe village. And then, sir, — ah, then the 
palace and the gardens and the forests are mine 
again. But 'tis only for a few short hours, only 
till day dawns and dreams end — and so, sir, good- 
night and good-morrow!" 

As the man spoke these words he drew a key 
from a pocket in the greatcoat and unlocked the 
gate; I passed through, then turned to speak my 
thanks, but he had vanished in the darkness of the 
forest. Next morning, in response to questions 
propounded to the head-waiter at the Hotel des 
Reservoirs I learned that there is in Versailles a 
harmless crank, whose delusion is that he is 
Louis XIV. Whether it was he whom I met in the 



From Blois to Versailles 107 

forest can only be surmised, as I never saw or 
heard of the fellow again. 

On leaving Versailles we took the road via St. 
Cloud, where Napoleon dispersed the Council of 
Five Hundred and proclaimed himself First Con- 
sul, and a few minutes later we were bowling down 
the Champs Elysees on the way to our hotel in 
Paris. 



CHAPTER VII 

A day with Rousseau at Les Charmettes. 

/~\N the left bank of the Seine, on the highest 
^^ ground in that quarter of Paris, is a spot 
which has been known to history for fourteen hun- 
dred years. Paris' patron saint, Ste. Genevieve, 
was buried here in 612 A.D. and a church 
erected over her tomb stood here until it fell into 
decay in the middle of the eighteenth century. A 
noble structure on the site of the old, completed 
in 1790, was dedicated to Ste. Genevieve, but in 
that time of turmoil and trouble men of daring 
deeds were more in the public eye than were saints, 
however pious or pure. Within a short year after 
the dedication of the new edifice to Ste. Genevieve 
the Revolutionary Convention ordered it called the 
" Pantheon' ' and caused to be inscribed over its 
portals the words : 

M Aux grands hommes la Patrie reconnaisante." (The Na- 
tion in homage to its great men.) 

The first " great men" laid to rest in the new 
Pantheon were Mirabeau and Voltaire in 1791; 

108 






A Day with Rousseau 109 

two years later Marat, slain in his bath by the 
beautiful Charlotte Corday, was placed in the 
same niche with Mirabeau. Shortly afterward, 
in 1794, the remains of Jean Jacques Eousseau 
were removed from their grave at Ermonoville, 
where they had reposed for sixteen years, and 
were accorded a place among the Pantheon's im- 
mortals. Since that day a long list of France's 
more or less illustrious men have been given a 
resting-place in the Pantheon — most of them a 
permanent place; but the first four, and perhaps 
the best known of them all, found there only a 
temporary abode. Mirabeau and Marat were re- 
moved within a short time by the same Revolu- 
tionary Tribunal which had put them there. Vol- 
taire and Rousseau were also removed, but when, 
by whom or whither they were taken still remains 
one of history's literary puzzles. 

When Voltaire died in 1778 his heart was placed 
in a silver case and given to his niece, Madame 
Denis ; eighty-six years later, in 1864, when it was 
sought to restore the heart to the body, Voltaire's 
sarcophagus in the Pantheon was opened and 
found to be empty. On examination Rousseau's 
sarcophagus was also found without a tenant. 
The accepted theory is that the remains of these 
two celebrated men were secretly removed after 
the Bourbon restoration in 1815, in paltry retalia- 



110 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

tion for the desecration of the tombs of the French 
kings at St. Denis. 

Whatever the object of this rifling of the philos- 
ophers ' graves it does not seem to have lessened 
the interest or the regard of the common people in 
France, for at least one of those philosophers — 
for Jean Jacques Eousseau ! On a week-day, when 
the visitors to the Pantheon's vaults are mainly 
foreigners, the crowd scatters, or if it gathers at 
any one place more than another it is apt to be in 
front of Victor Hugo's tomb. But on Sundays, 
when the visitors are French men and women, it 
is before the tomb of the "Friend of Man" that 
you will see the largest crowd, the most interested 
crowd, the crowd that listens the closest to the 
custodian as he calls Eousseau the great "pre- 
curseur" of the Eevolution. 

Doubtless few of the several hundred people 
whom we saw one Sunday afternoon in July, 
crowded around Eousseau 's tomb, knew that his 
body had long since disappeared from its massive 
sarcophagus to be put away where no tongue or 
pen hath ever recorded. The crowd, composed al- 
most entirely of working men and women, prob- 
ably had neither time nor inclination for the de- 
tails of history, but that in a general way it knew, 
or felt, the great role which the vagabond immi- 
grant from Switzerland had played in the desti- 
nies of France — aye, in the destinies of the world, 



A Day with Rousseau 111 

was plain from the way it lingered about the sar- 
cophagus which was once tenanted by Eousseau 's 
body, and which is still inscribed with his name. 

A few weeks after observing this illustration of 
the present-day Frenchman's interest in Bous- 
seau we stood in Geneva, the city of his birth, 
where his books during his life were burned by 
the public hangman, and where, after his death, a 
statue was erected by the city in his honor. The 
statue, as all tourists know, is on an island in the 
Khone, in the heart of Geneva. In this work, 
described by Lord Morley as "trimly compla- 
cent/ J Eousseau is seated in an armchair, a pile 
of books at his feet, a pen in his hand, his head 
bent slightly forward as if lost in profound medi- 
tation. Perhaps into the head of no man in any 
land or any age did ever stranger thoughts come 
than the thoughts which sometimes came into the 
head of Jean Jacques Eousseau — but if his bronze 
image on that island in the Ehone could only see 
and think, the statue 's thoughts would be stranger 
than any of its living original. 

From that bronze armchair, were the real Eous- 
seau there, he could see the spot where the city of 
his birth ordered the hangman to make a bonfire 
of his books ; he could look out on the city which 
refused him an asylum when he was driven by 
despotism from France, but which, when he was 
dead and unmindful of either praise or blame, 



112 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

could find no honor too great to bestow upon his 
name and memory; he could see the street down 
which he fled as a boy to begin life as a tramp 
and to end it as one of the world's immortals. 
And finally he could look down on generation after 
generation of tourists who pause on the bridge 
spanning the Ehone to look at that statue and to 
ponder over the strange career of the man to 
whose memory it was raised. 

That day in September, after Beamer and I 
had so paused and so pondered, we suddenly re- 
solved to spend the day with Rousseau in the 
farmhouse, where almost the only happy period 
of his life was passed — at Les Charmettes, in 
Savoy. The road thither is the same as that taken 
by Rousseau in 1728, when, while a sixteen-year- 
old apprentice to a Genevese engraver, he ran 
away from his master and began that strange pil- 
grimage which sometimes found him sleeping on 
benches in public parks for want of a bed, and 
fasting for want of a crust of bread; but which 
ended with his name known to all the world, and 
with his native and his adopted lands vying with 
each other in doing homage to his memory. 

Hardly are Geneva's outskirts reached before 
the road begins a steep ascent, with many a twist 
and turn until the summit is attained. There we 
paused to look back upon the lake and the city of 
Geneva. The city is changed; perhaps it is more 



A Day with Rousseau 113 

beautiful; certainly it is much larger than it was 
one hundred and eighty-two years ago. But all the 
rest, the fields, the flowers, the lake, the moun- 
tains — these are about as they were when the 
young engraver 's apprentice paused on that same 
spot in 1728 to take a last look at the city of his 
birth. The same marvelously beautiful view met 
our gaze as that which entranced Rousseau, and 
we lingered perhaps even longer than he did to 
enjoy it. We could afford to do so, for we were in 
no danger of being overtaken by either an irate 
father or an indignant engraver; moreover, we 
were in an automobile capable of making the whole 
journey from Geneva to Les Charmettes in a 
couple of hours, whereas Rousseau, afoot and on 
the ill-paved road of his time, required several 
days. 

Just beyond the village of Cruseilles, fifteen 
miles from Geneva, there is a profound gorge, the 
boundary line between France and Switzerland. 
In Rousseau's day to cross the frontier here meant 
a descent into the bottom of that gorge and a long 
and fatiguing climb up its precipitous walls. To- 
day a superb suspension bridge spans the gorge, 
and we would have traversed it in two minutes had 
we not halted in the center to look down at the 
boiling waters far below, and to observe the traces 
of the ancient path up which the young Rousseau 



114 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

scrambled when he went that way in the third 
decade of the eighteenth century. 

Nine miles beyond the gorge is Annecy, the little 
city where Eousseau first met Madame de War- 
rens, that remarkable woman who exerted so pro- 
found an influence upon his career, and thus indi- 
rectly upon the career of France. Twenty miles 
further south we passed through Aix-les-Bains, in 
Eousseau 's day a quiet village, but now a town of 
pretentious hotels overflowing with pleasure and 
health-seekers from all parts of Europe. We were 
in search of neither health nor pleasure — at least 
not of that sort of pleasure — so we made no stop 
at Aix-les-Bains, but hurried on to the completion 
of our plan, which was to project ourselves back- 
ward nearly two centuries and to spend a day with 
Jean Jacques and "Hainan" at Les Charmettes. 

Whoever has read the fifth and sixth books of 
Rousseau's "Confessions" need only be told that 
Les Charmettes is to-day precisely as it was in 
1736 to understand that in no spot in the world can 
one more easily push back the relentless hand of 
Time and summon forth the shadowy scenes and 
figures of a bygone age and make them all real 
again. Charmettes, the farmhouse where Rous- 
seau and Hadame de Warrens went when they left 
Chambery, has undergone no change whatever; 
they sought a place far enough from the city to 
live in peace, a solitude a deux, and yet near 



A Day with Rousseau 115 

enough to go to town when necessity required. The 
farmhouse at Les Charmettes filled that require- 
ment in 1736; it fills it to-day: 



"At the gate of Chambery, yet as solitary and retired as 
though it were a hundred leagues off, between two tolerably 
high hills is a little valley through which among trees and 
pebbles runs a babbling brook. We chose a house in front 
of which was a terraced garden with a vineyard above and an 
orchard below; opposite was a wood of chestnut trees with a 
fountain hardby; further up the hill were meadows for cattle 
— in a word, we found every thing we needed for the little 
rustic household we intended setting up." 



So Rousseau describes the place, and the de- 
scription applies to-day. He says the first time 
they went there Madame de "Warrens was carried 
in a chair whilst he followed on foot : 

"The road is up hill, and as she was rather heavy she 
feared tiring the chairmen and so got out when we were 
half way on to walk the rest." 

The road is indeed uphill; the Get-There had 
crossed the Simplon and the St. Gothard passes, 
but it was all it could do to climb that road from 
Chambery to Les Charmettes; it was so rugged, 
so rocky, so steep, so narrow. Half-way up we, 
too, got out — not to rest any chairmen, but to rest 
our motor in which the water was fairly boiling. 
When it had cooled off we started the climb again 
and presently found ourselves before a stone farm- 



116 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

house in a terraced garden. On the gatepost were 
inscribed the words : 

"Maison de Jean Jacques Rousseau!" 

Had there been any way to put out of sight our 
red automobile the illusion would have been com- 
plete. The house, the terrace, the garden were un- 
changed; the still autumn air was disturbed only 
by the drowsy hum of bees winging their way to 
and from a hive near-by. Rousseau records that 
he began the days at Charmettes looking after lr\s 
bees; from them he would glance up at the win- 
dows of Madame de Warrens' chamber, and if the 
shutters were open, indicating that she was awake, 
he would leave the bees to go and embrace her. It 
was noon when we opened the gate and climbed up 
the path to the front door ; the bees were there, the 
window-shutters were open — surely "Hainan" 
was awake. We rang the bell. A comely lass with 
brown hair and rosy cheeks opened the door. 

"M. Rousseau et Mme. de Warrens sont Us chez 
eux?" 

These words were spoken in our best Berlitz- 
School French, and to our delight the little maid 
understood them — at any rate, she replied with a 
smile : "All non, Monsieur, Us sont parti. Mais en- 
trez. La maison est ouverte." 

In the kitchen, which was just to the left of the 
entrance hall,, was a fire and the smell of good 



A Day with Rousseau 117 

things cooking; in the dining-room, to the right, 
were the same table, the same chairs and buffet, 
filled with the same plates and cups and saucers 
which were there in 1736. " Would M. Eousseau 
be back in time for dinner ?" 

"No, Monsieur," responded the maid; and a 
smile was the only sign that she did not take our 
question seriously. 

* ' But the dinner, ' ' I persisted. * ' It is for him, is 
it not?" 

"No, Monsieur. Jean Jacques is not coming 
again. The dinner is for Monsieur and Madame 
Aubrey. They live here and care for the house. 
The dinner is served in the kitchen. Jean Jacques ' 
dining-room is not used now. It is kept just as it 
was when he was here." 

' ' When was that — yesterday ? ' ' 

"No, it was many, many yesterdays ago. Nev- 
ertheless, Monsieur, everything remains the same ; 
nothing has been changed." 

Conducting us up the winding stairs to the sec- 
ond floor, the brown-haired maid showed us Ma- 
dame de Warrens' room. 

"This is her bed," she said. "You see, Mon- 
sieur, it has not been slept on since she was here. 
This is the same coverlid. It does not look so old? 
Mais oui, it is old, very old. But there has always 
been a caretaker. The room has been sunned and 
aired, and no one has rested on this bed — no one, 



118 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Monsieur, since Madame de Warrens was here. 
That is why it seems so new, so fresh!" 

It was this bed, this coverlid which Kousseau 
says he kissed because "Maman's dear form had 
reposed upon it." On the walls of the room were 
three portraits of Madame de Warrens, no one of 
which in the least resembled the other. They made 
us think of the Indian Kajah who importuned Sir 
Joshua Eeynolds to paint a portrait of his father. 
Sir Joshua had never seen his subject, nor did the 
Kajah have any photograph of him, nor even a 
lock of his hair. "How, then, can I paint his por- 
trait?" demanded Sir Joshua. 

"What?" exclaimed the Kajah. "You can not 
paint my father's portrait because you have never 
seen him and because I have not his photograph? 
You have never seen Christ's photograph, nor yet 
a lock of his hair, yet you paint His portrait. I 
insist that you paint my father's." 

Sir Joshua finally consented and painted a most 
oriental-looking man with a gorgeous Indian head- 
gear — a very picturesque picture indeed, but when 
the Kajah came and looked at it he burst into 
tears as he exclaimed, "My God, how father has 
changed ! ' ' 

Had Rousseau dropped in on us that September 
day and seen those three portraits of Madame de 
Warrens he would no doubt have exclaimed, "Mon 
Dieu, how Maman has changed!" For versatile 



A Day with Rousseau 119 

as was Madame de Warrens, she could not possibly 
have resembled all three of the pictures which now 
hang on the walls of Les Charmettes. One por- 
trait represents a refined, spirituelle woman; the 
second shows a voluptuous, even coarse, woman; 
the third is the portrait of a comely woman, with 
thoughtful, almost melancholy, mien. But all three 
purport to be likenesses of the same person at the 
same period of her life. The dates beneath the 
portraits are also at cross-purposes ; under one pic- 
ture Madame de Warrens ' death is given as occur- 
ring in 1762 ; under another picture she is said to 
have died in 1765. 

The caretaker's pretty maid had never read any 
of Rousseau's writings, nor even his description 
of the house where she lived with M. and Mme. 
Aubrey; she spoke of "Jean Jacques," however, 
as she might have talked of one who had gone that 
morning and might be back to-morrow. She never 
used the word " Rousseau,' ' but invariably said 
' ' Jean Jacques. " " Here is Jean Jacques ' room, ' ' 
she said, leading us into the next chamber; and 
there we saw the little desk on which Rousseau 
wrote, and the armchair into which he tells us he 
curled himself up when he would spend half the 
night reading Locke's "Essay Upon the Human 
Understanding. ' ' 

"There can be no better time or place to read 
Rousseau's description of this house than right 



120 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

here, seated in his armchair, the book resting on 
his desk." 

So spoke Beamer ; but the caretaker's maid frus- 
trated this sentimental design. It was all right to 
read in the room and to rest the book on Jean 
Jacques' desk — but sit in his armchair? "Ah, 
Madame, c'est impossible! (that is impossible!) 
No one has sat in that chair for a hundred and fifty 
years. But I will bring Monsieur and Madame 
chairs from the kitchen." 

She did so ; and for the next hour or two we sat 
at that desk alternately reading the "Confes- 
sions" and looking out of the window at the majes- 
tic mountains upon which, through that same win- 
dow, Eousseau used to look and dream the dreams 
which were destined to shake the world. Our sur- 
roundings gave a double charm to what, owing to 
Rousseau's inimitable style, has an inherent charm 
of its own, no matter what the circumstances or 
surroundings of its reading. Describing his daily 
routine at Charmettes Rousseau says : 

"I rose every morning before the sun and passed through 
a neighboring orchard into an exceedingly beautiful path above 
the vineyard leading to Chambery. Here, while walking along, 
I offered up my prayer, consisting not in vain lip service, but 
in a sincere elevation of heart to the Author of that lovely 
Nature whose beauties met my gaze. I never liked to pray in 
my room; it seems to me as though the walls and all the little 
works of man interpose between God and my soul. I love to 
contemplate Him in His work whilst my heart rises in adora- 
tion towards Him! " 



A Day with Rousseau 121 

Careless readers of history class Rousseau with 
the eighteenth century atheists; so far from that 
being true, Rousseau advocated banishment of all 
who do not believe in God, and in putting to death 
any one who, once a believer, should afterward re- 
nounce his faith. Such intolerance to-day would 
inspire indifference or contempt, but it was & seri- 
ous matter in the last years of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. Robespierre adopted the principle precisely 
as Rousseau laid it down in the ' ' Social Contract ' ' ; 
and in 1794 Chaumette and Clootz were both guil- 
lotined for the sole crime, as St. Just phrased it, 
of " attacking the immortality of the soul, the 
thought of which consoled Socrates in his dying 
moments." On his return from those morning 
walks Rousseau tells us : 

"I looked from afar to see if Maman was stirring yet; and 
if her shutters were open a thrill of joy would run through 
me and I would make towards the house. If they were still 
shut I went into the garden to await her rising. * * * The 
moment the shutter was thrown open I went and embraced her 
in bed, often while still asleep; and those embraces, as pure 
as they were tender, derived from their very innocence a 
charm which never enters into sensual pleasures." 

Then they breakfasted in a little arbor on the 
terrace in front of the cottage. The description of 
those breakfasts, together with the lateness of the 
hour, made us hungry, and we determined to eat 
in that arbor. The little maid was "desolated": 
the arbor was open to us — ah, yes, and the table 



122 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

and chairs were still there, just where Jean 
Jacques and Maman had put them, but she could 
give us nothing to eat — there was little in the 
house, and that little belonged to M. and Mme. 
Aubrey. 

* ' That is nothing, ' ' said Beamer, laughing. ' ' We 
have hot chocolate and wine in our Thermos bot- 
tles, and a roast chicken and bread and cakes and 
ever so many other good things in our lunch bas- 
ket. You spread the cloth for us and fetch fresh 
water, and we shall have as jolly a luncheon in 
that little arbor as ever Jean Jacques and Maman 
had." 

And we did. At that time of year there were 
few leaves on the vines, so that as we sat there 
under the trellised top of the little arbor the view 
on the sides was not wholly obstructed; we were 
not more than a dozen steps from the cottage and 
from our seats at the rustic table we could read 
the inscription over the door : 

"Reduit par Jean Jacque habite\ 
Tu me rappelles son gSnie, 
Sa solitude, sa fierte 
Et ses malheurs, et sa folie. 
A la gloire, a la verite" 
II osa consacrer sa vie, 
Et fut toujours persecute" 
Ou par lui-meme ou par l'envie." 

(Retreat inhabited by Jean Jacques, thou remindest me of 
his genius, his solitude, his pride, his misfortunes and his 



A Day with Rousseau 123 

folly; to glory and truth he dared consecrate his life, and waa 
ever persecuted, either by himself or by Envy.) 

Herault de Sechelles, the Commissioner of the 
Convention who inscribed these lines over the door 
at Charmettes during the Revolution, was not 
much of a poet, but, like the other revolutionists 
of his day, he worshiped Rousseau — a thing not 
hard to comprehend, since Rousseau was the arch- 
apostle of the Revolution, who styled himself the 
"Friend of Man," and dared preach the rights of 
man in an age when man had no rights than any 
king or nobleman took the trouble to respect. That 
revolutionists adored him is comprehensible, but it 
is not so easy to understand the feeling which a 
large part of the governing class of his day felt 
toward the man to whom more than any other 
they owed their destruction a few years later. 

The kings of both France and England offered 
him pensions — he refused them both; Frederick 
the Great wrote offering to befriend him ; the Duke 
of Luxembourg sought his friendship, so did Lord 
Marischal. Lord Morley says that the women of 
France "were intoxicated by Rousseau's 'New 
Heloise' to such a pitch that they would pay any 
price for a glass out of which he had drunk; they 
would kiss a scrap of paper that contained a piece 
of his handwriting and vow that no woman of sen- 
sibility could hesitate to consecrate her life to him 
if she were only certain to be rewarded by his at- 



124 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

tachment. ,, In a letter written from Paris in 
December, 1765, by David Hume, the historian, to 
Dr. Blair, Hume says : 

"It is impossible to express or to imagine the enthusiasm 
of this Nation in Rousseau's behalf. As I am supposed to have 
him in my custody all the world, especially the great ladies, 
tease me to be introduced to him. I have had rouleaux of gold 
thrown into my hand with earnest supplications that I would 
prevail on him to accept of them. I am persuaded that were I 
to open a subscription with his consent I should receive £50,000 
in a fortnight. * * * I am strongly solicited to prevail on him 
to take a walk and then to give warning to my friends. Were 
the public informed he could not fail to have many thousand 
spectators. People may talk of ancient Greece as they please, 
but no Nation was ever so fond of genius as this, and no person 
ever so much engaged their attention as Rousseau. Voltaire 
and everybody else are quite forgotten." 

Thirteen years after Hume wrote this letter 
saying, if Kousseau would only consent, that 
within a fortnight his admirers would raise for 
him a subscription of $250,000, Kousseau died, as 
he had lived, rejecting alike the subscriptions of 
friends and the pensions of kings. But twelve 
years after his death, in 1790, when his widow ap- 
plied to Mirabeau for alms that Tribune of the 
Kevolution answered: 

"I have too much reverence for the memory of the man 
whose name you bear to assume the honor of paying you the 
homage which is due you from the Nation. Pray present your 
petition to the National Assembly. The representatives of the 
People alone have the right to award the recognition she de- 
serves to the widow of the immortal man of genius, whose loss 
they never cease to deplore." 



A Day with Rousseau 125 

The National Assembly immediately voted 
Therese a yearly pension of fifteen hundred francs. 

The spot we visited that autumn day has long 
been a place of pilgrimage to students of history ; 
Lamartine, Berlioz, Stendhal, Hugo, Lord Morley 
and a host of others have been there. And long 
before any of these there came here on Christmas 
Eve of 1789 the English squire who rode horseback 
over all France, that Arthur Young, whose book of 
travels has been a storehouse of information to 
every historian of the French Eevolution. In the 
room where we sat reading his book Young wrote 
these lines : 

"Dec. 24, 1789 — The country to Chambery improves greatly; 
the mountains, though high, recede; the valley is wide and the 
slopes more cultivated, and toward the Capital of Savoy are 
many country houses which enliven the scene. * * * But 
Chambery had objects more interesting to me than the houses 
of the nobility. I was eager to view Charmettes, the road, the 
house of Madame de Warrens, the vineyard, the garden, every- 
thing in a word that had been described by the inimitable 
pencil of Rousseau. There was something so deliciously ami- 
able in her character in spite of her frailties — her constant 
gaiety and good humor, her tenderness and humanity, her 
farming speculations — but above all other circumstances the 
love of Rousseau has written her name amongst the few whose 
memories are connected with us by ties more easily felt than 
described. The house is situated about a mile from Cham- 
bery, fronting the rocky road which leads to the city, and the 
wood of chestnuts in the valley. It is small and much of the 
same size as we should suppose in England would be found on 
a hundred-acre farm, without the least luxury or pretension. 
* * * It could but interest me and I viewed it with a degree 
of emotion; even in the leafless melancholy of December it 



126 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

pleased. I wandered about some hills which assuredly were 
the walks Rousseau so agreeably describes. * * * I returned 
to Chambery with my heart full of Rousseau and Madame de 
Warrens. " 

Lord Morley wrote of his visit also : 

"Les Charmettes. the modest farmhouse to which Rousseau 
and Madame de Warrens retired, still stands. * * * The 
homes in which men have lived now and again lend themselves 
to the beholder's subjective imagination; they seem to be brood- 
ing in forlorn isolation like some life-wearied greybeard over 
ancient and sorrow-stricken memories. The supreme loveliness 
of the scene, the sweet-smelling meadows, the orchard, the little 
vineyard, with here and there a rose glowing crimson among 
the yellow stunted vines, the rust-red crag of the Nivolet rising 
against the sky across the valley, the contrast between all this 
peace, beauty, silence, and the diseased, miserable life of the 
famous man who found a scanty span of paradise in the midst 
of it, touches the soul with a pathetic spell!" 

It was the recollection of the days in that "mod- 
est farmhouse' ' that caused Rousseau thirty years 
afterward to write: 

"Here commenced my brief season of happiness; here came 
those calm, yet rapid, moments that authorize me to say — I 
have lived! * * * I rose with the sun and I was happy; I 
walked out and I was happy; I saw Maman and I was happy; 
I left her and I was happy; I rambled over the hills and 
through the woods, or strolled along the valley — I read, loafed, 
worked in the garden, gathered the fruits, helped in my house- 
hold duty, and happiness accompanied me everywhere. In 
nothing assignable was it; 'twas in myself, and so could not 
for a moment leave me." 

But happiness did leave him when he left that 
silent, beautiful little valley ; and it is not too much 



A Day with Rousseau 127 

to say that no real happiness ever came to Rous- 
seau again until that final moment of all when, just 
before breathing his last, he exclaimed to his wife : 

"Look, Therese! Look! The sky is clear — not 
a cloud is to be seen. Would you not say that the 
gate of Heaven is open and that God is waiting 
for me?" 

Those were his dying words. 

Rousseau has long since become one of those 
personages of whom rather than whom the world 
reads; there are not only many books written 
about him, but books have been written about the 
books about Rousseau. These books concerning 
him are read to-day, but the books which he him- 
self wrote are covered with dust on library shelves 
— all except the "Confessions." They, of course, 
will long be read for their charm of style and their 
unparalleled exposure of the inmost workings of 
an extraordinary soul! Verily, Rousseau was 
right when he said in the opening paragraph of 
the "Confessions" that he was about to write a 
work of which history afforded no example, and 
of which posterity would see no imitation. He 
would show a man in all the truth of nature, and 
that man would be himself ! 

Many men do as mean things as Rousseau did, 
but no other man ever wrote them down and read 
them to his friends and published them to the 
world. For two years, while living at the "Her- 



128 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

milage," a cottage on the outskirts of Madame 
d'Epinay's estate, Bousseau made desperate love 
to Madame d'Houdetot. Many years later, while 
Madame d'Houdetot still lived, he wrote in the 
" Confessions' ' minute details of this amour and 
read them aloud to a company of friends in Paris. 
As an index of the curious state of public opinion 
of that day it may be added that Madame d'Houde- 
tot felt flattered rather than outraged at the pub- 
lication of her affair with the ' ' great philosopher. ' ' 

Yes, so curious a book as the "Confessions" will 
always find readers ; but, apart from students, it is 
safe to say no one nowadays reads either the * ' New 
Heloise" or the "Social Contract," the two works 
which made him famous and which produced so 
profound an effect, not only in France, but 
throughout the world. The novel of to-day is so 
far in advance of the eighteenth century romance, 
in construction, in plot, in technique, that modern 
readers not only have not the patience to read the 
"New Heloise," but they find it difficult to com- 
prehend how a book so written could ever have set 
the world by the ears. 

That is was so set we are told by responsible 
writers; the printing presses could not turn out 
copies fast enough to supply the demand, so copies 
were rented at the rate of twelve cents the hour. 
Fine ladies, beginning the book just before start- 
ing for the opera or to a ball, could not lay it down ; 



A Day with Rousseau 129 

they would order their carriages returned to the 
stables, and would read all night. The German 
philosopher Kant only once in his life failed to 
take his afternoon walk, says Lord Morley, and 
that "unexampled omission was due to the witch- 
ery of the New Heloise. ,, 

The "Social Contract" began with the words: 
i i Man is everywhere born free ; man is everywhere 
in chains ! ' ' — a paradox, illogical, historically un- 
true ; yet we are told that that sentence shook all 
Europe. America owes to Rousseau the principles 
enunciated in the Declaration of Independence ; ac- 
cording to some writers our independence was 
largely due to the Frenchman, for it was his elo- 
quence which "produced that glow of enthusiastic 
feeling in France which led to the all-important 
assistance rendered by that country to the Ameri- 
can colonies.' ' 

To Rousseau France owes the center of that trin- 
ity of words which to-day is carved on every public 
building and every monument in the republic — 
"Liberty, Fraternity, Equality.' ' For it was 
Rousseau who first proclaimed the brotherhood of 
man. 

In an age when Louis XV lived and Madame du 
Barry reigned, Rousseau had the hardihood to 
write : 

"I would rather be the wife of a charcoal burner than the 
mistress of a king." 



130 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

In an age when all the world groveled at the 
feet of kings, Eousseau declared that true sover- 
eignty lay not in kings, but in the people. 

In an age when literary men eagerly sought the 
patronage of kings, Rousseau proudly refused the 
pensions offered him by the kings of France and 
England. Once, when his financial affairs were at 
their lowest ebb, a friend got the English Govern- 
ment to send him a draft for the full amount of his 
pension, some seven thousand francs. Rousseau 
tore up the draft and rebuked his friend for want- 
ing him to accept alms from a king. 

These were some of the things that came back to 
our memories as we sat in that arbor at Char- 
mettes that balmy September day. The droning 
of the bees, the soft autumn air fragrant with 
the perfume of new-mown hay and of vines and 
flowers, the perfect stillness that prevailed — all 
made us take no note of time; we hardly noticed 
when the sun sank behind the mountain that rises 
sharply back of the stone cottage. Probably we 
would have dreamed there till darkness fell 
had we not been awakened from our dreams by 
footsteps coming up the garden path. A man and 
a woman were approaching — Jean Jacques • and 
Maman? Alas, no; only the caretaker and his 
wife, returning from their labor in the fields. 

"Monsieur and Madame have been lunching in 
Jean Jacques' arbor/ ' explained the red-cheeked 



A Day with Rousseau 131 

maid with the brown hair. "They had their own 
lunch. I spread a cloth and gave them some 
dishes.' ' 

"You did right, Marie," replied the caretaker's 
wife, with a friendly smile. And, turning to us, 
she added: "It is a beautiful place in which to 
lunch, is it not?" 

1 i Indeed, it is, ' ' we answered. ' i And a beautiful 
place in which to dream. ' ' 

"Ah, oui, Monsieur. That is why Jean Jacques 
came here. It was so quiet, so out of the way. 
Monsieur knows, perhaps, that the city of Cham- 
bery owns the place and preserves it just as when 
Jean Jacques was here. When he returns he will 
find everything the same as it was the day he went 
away, the furniture, the plates, the beds, the gar- 
den — everything ! ' ' 

When he returns ! Ah, if the spirits of the dead 
ever do revisit the earth it is quite certain Rous- 
seau's spirit pays frequent visits to that stone 
farmhouse in the silent little valley above Cham- 
bery. 

When we descended the garden path and passed 
out through the gate into the narrow road it 
seemed to us as if we were stepping out of the 
eighteenth century. Within that enclosure, while 
reading Bousseau's books in Rousseau's armchair, 
while lunching at Maman's table in the vine-cov- 
ered arbor, the long vista of endless years seemed 



132 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

to pass away; we seemed close, very close to the 
two extraordinary beings who once lived and loved 
in this idyllic spot. 

But outside the gate stood the Get-There — an 
instant reminder of the twentieth century! Vis- 
ions of the eighteenth century, with Maman 
ascending the hill in a sedan chair, Jean Jacques 
following adoringly after, can not long survive the 
smell of gasoline and the chug-chug of an auto- 
mobile. 

When we had cranked up and were on the way 
down the valley to Chambery we realized that the 
eighteenth century had vanished into the dead 
past again, and that our day with Rousseau was 
ended ! 



CHAPTER VIII 

The Empress Eugenie.— Getting a German Pass. — Triptyques. 
— On the road to Rheims. — The Chateau Thierry.— On the 
Field of Chalons. — Race with an aeroplane. — A narrow es- 
cape. — On to Valmy. 

'I XT HILE in Paris we called one evening on a 

* * friend, Mme. G , who said to us : ' * You 

can't guess with whom I had tea to-day — with the 

Empress Eugenie.' ' Then Mme. G explained 

that the former empress, now a lonely old woman, 
often visits Paris and stops at a quiet little hotel 
where many of her friends call on her. We were 

interested in one fact that Mme. G mentioned, 

viz., that even in her hired rooms in an hotel Eu- 
genie affects imperial formality — her visitors may 
not either commence or end a conversation, the ini- 
tiative in that regard being the prerogative of 
royalty. When they enter her presence they kneel, 
and in leaving they do not shake hands and turn 
and go, as one does in saying good-by to an ordi- 
nary person; they kneel again, kiss Eugenie's 
hand and back themselves out of the apartment, 
bowing as they retire. 
In our democratic age all this ceremony seems 

133 



134* Seeing Europe by Automobile 

none too sensible, even in the palace of a reigning 
monarch; in an obscure hotel, in the presence of 
a lonely, broken-down old woman, it is pathetically 
illogical. Yet deposed royalty has ever been af- 
flicted by such lack of logic. Napoleon on St. 
Helena lived in a house that was little better than 
a stable; he was poorer than a stable groom, and 
more desolate and forlorn; yet from the few 
friends who shared his captivity he demanded the 
same ceremonious homage which had been paid 
him while he was the most powerful personage on 
earth. It was the fact that he had been General 
Bonaparte that made of Napoleon a modern 
Caesar, yet nothing the English Government ever 
did angered him more than its consistent and per- 
sistent refusal to address him as Emperor; all 
communications to him from the British Foreign 
Office were addressed to "General Buonaparte 7 ' — 
and never by any chance was that "u" omitted, 
which irritated Napoleon all the more, for it was 
a reminder of his Italian origin, a thing he wished 
Frenchmen to forget. 

The same England which refused to acknowl- 
edge the sovereignty of Napoleon when he really 
reigned, when he was an emperor whose com- 
mands were obeyed by a million men, whose word 
was law to half Europe — this same England now 
accords the title of empress to an exile, whose only 
claim to royalty is that she is the widow of a man 



The Road to Rheims 135 

of doubtful relationship to that same General 
Bonaparte! Since her residence in England fol- 
lowing the Second Empire's downfall in 1870 
Eugenie has always been accorded the homage 
deemed due to ex-royalty. Queen Victoria treated 
her as an empress for the sole reason that she was 
the widow of the reputed nephew of Napoleon. 
But Queen Victoria's predecessor on the British 
throne refused to treat Napoleon himself as an 
emperor even when he not only was one, but when 
he was the most powerful emperor the world had 
ever seen. 

After this talk with Mme. G about the Em- 
press Eugenie and Napoleon we drove to the 
Place Vendome to study that majestic column 
which stands to-day as an instance of the final tri- 
umph of genius over mere money and power. In 
1814 the Bourbons caused the Colonne Vendome 
to be hurled to the ground and the bronze effigy of 
Napoleon to be cast into cannon. The very men- 
tion of Napoleon's name was forbidden. And six 
years later, when his body was lowered into a lone- 
ly grave on a barren isle at the other end of the 
world, the Bourbon king drew a sigh of relief and 
fancied France was rid forever of the great Cor- 
sican's memory. 

But within twenty years of that burial on St. 
Helena a vessel, convoyed by a fleet of warships, 
bore the dead exile across the seas ; and on reach- 



136 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

ing France he was accorded a funeral the like of 
which is unparalleled in history. From the Rhine 
to the Pyrenees, from the Atlantic to the Mediter- 
ranean, the people of France stood with bared 
heads on the day of Napoleon's second funeral. 
It is said that no fewer than six millions of French- 
men lined the banks of the Seine from the coast 
to the capital, anxious to get a mere glimpse of the 
catafalque containing the lifeless body of the re- 
turned emperor. On that day the whole tribe of 
Bourbons learned that, though dead, Napoleon was 
mightier than any of them: and a little later the 
majestic monument to his memory was re-erected 
in the Place Vendome, where even republican 
France now wishes it to remain — not as a sign of 
approval of Napoleon's absolutism, but as a recog- 
nition of his genius, of his intellectual greatness. 
The Colonne Vendome, twice hurled to the 
ground (in 1814 by the Bourbons, in 1871 by the 
Communists) will probably now be allowed to 
stand, like Trajan's column at Rome, to interest 
and instruct generations of men for a thousand 
years to come. Around Trajan's marble column 
runs a spiral band three or four feet wide, on 
which, in nearly three thousand figures carved in 
the stone, may be read to-day the history of Rome's 
war with the Dacians eighteen hundred years ago. 
Doubtless eighteen hundred years hence travelers 
of that remote day will stop before the Colonne 



The Road to Ilheims 187 

Vendonie to see in its three hundred yards of re- 
liefs a picture in bronze of that wonderful cam- 
paign which began with the breaking up of Napo- 
leon's camp at Boulogne and ended with his 
brilliant victory at Austerlitz. 

The foreign motorist in Germany must have his 
license viseed by a German consul, so before leav- 
ing Paris we went to the Rue de Lille, Number 123, 
and found there a dozen automobiles, the owners 
of which had come to arrange for motoring in the 
Kaiser's country. We had to wait till they were 
attended to, then several Germans approached the 
consul's clerk (the consul himself was far too 
grand a personage to wait on common mortals), 
and timidly, apologetically, asked for a "Reise 
Pass" (a traveling pass). The clerk, majestic and 
overawing by reason of his deputed authority, his 
mustache upturned at an angle which the Kaiser 
himself might have envied, granted the Reise 
Pass to his countrymen with a quick, curt air — as 
though he were bestowing an unmerited favor — 
then turned to us and brusquely demanded : 

"Was wollen Sief" (what do you want?) 

" We purpose motoring in Germany and we wish 
you to do whatever is needful to be done to our 
papers." 

"Let me see them." The majestic clerk frowned 
when he saw the chauffeur's license which we had 
obtained from the Prefet du Police at Havre. 



138 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"This says your domicile is at No. 42 Rue Monti- 
villiers!" 

"Yes." 

1 ' But you are not a Frenchman ? ' ' 

My Berlitz French prevented contradiction of 
this statement, even had I been disposed to deceive 
him. 

"I am not a Frenchman,' ' I said, "but pro tern. 
and officially, strictly officially, I reside at the ad- 
dress given." 

Then I explained how my license had been 
obtained. 

1 1 l rr egular, very irregular, ' ' muttered the awe- 
inspiring clerk. "But if the French Government 
is satisfied we can not complain; however, you 
must have your papers authenticated. The French 
Government must do that before I will vise them." 

' ' Just what do you mean by the French Govern- 
ment?" I mildly queried; and for an instant even 
that omniscient clerk seemed puzzled, but he quick- 
ly recovered himself and his brow wrinkled, as 
became the brow of bored majesty. 

"The Minister of the Interior," he answered 
curtly. "Any one should know that in an affair 
of this kind the term ' Government ' means His Ex- 
cellency the French Minister of the Interior. ' ' 

And the clerk wheeled around to dart an Olym- 
pian glance at another of his countrymen who had 
come humbly to request a "Reise Pass." 



The Road to Rheims 139 

We were told the Minister of the Interior was to 
be found on the Place Beauveau. It was easy to 
find that place, but it was not easy to get our 
papers ' ' authenticated ' ' ; for after we got to the 
Place Beauveau nobody seemed to know just what 
we wanted, and as we ourselves were a bit hazy 
on the subject we were for a while at what the 
French call an impasse. Finally, however, after 
being sent from one bureau to another we found 
an official who said that, although he didn't know 
us from the side of a house, if the German Gov- 
ernment insisted on our being " authenticated' ' he 
would "authenticate" us. He stamped our li- 
cense, scrawled his name under the stamp and 
said: 

"Voila, Monsieur et Madame — perhaps now 
they will let you motor in their beloved Germany." 

Then, thanking the official, we drove back to 
No. 123 Rue de Lille, showed the majestic clerk the 
stamp and signature, and this time, on payment of 
fifteen francs, he viseed our papers. As the finding 
of the particular bureau where papers will be 
"authenticated" is a difficult matter, even after 
one reaches the Ministry of the Interior, it may be 
well to say here that that bureau is not in the main 
building on the Place Beauveau; it is half a mile 
away, at No. 13 Rue Cambaceres, a street named 
after the man who wrote the sketch of the civil 
code, which afterward expanded into the Code 



140 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Napoleon, and who aided Napoleon in overthrow- 
ing the Directory. For his share in that affair of 
the 18th Brumaire (November 9th, 1799) Camba- 
ceres was made Second Consul when Napoleon be- 
came First Consul. 

If one's motor trip is confined to a single coun- 
try it may not be worth while to join a foreign 
touring club ; you pay the duty on your automobile 
when you enter the country and you get your 
money back when you leave; there is but one such 
transaction, and it involves but little trouble and 
no expense. But if several countries are to be 
visited a club membership is helpful. When we 
reached Havre the Get-There was inventoried and 
weighed, and a duty of six hundred and seventy- 
six francs was paid; this amount, less two cents 
for a receipt stamp, was refunded three months 
later when we left France for the last time at 
the frontier near Mentone. That was our only 
direct dealing with customs officials, for before 
starting east we went to the handsome home of 
the Touring Club de France, at No. 67 Avenue de 
la Grande Armee and paid six francs for a mem- 
bership, which entitled us to secure for each coun- 
try we purposed visiting what is called a "Trip- 
tyque," i.e., a certificate in triplicate setting forth 
that we had deposited with the club's treasurer 
an amount sufficient to cover all duties which the 
Get-There would have to pay. Armed with a trip- 



The Road to Rheims 141 

tyque as you cross a frontier, instead of being 
obliged to weigh your automobile and furnish a 
detailed description of its color, its seats, number, 
motor, etc., and then pay a large sum in cash in 
the currency of the country you are about to enter 
— instead of all this delay and bother you merely 
present your triptyque ; the customs officer retains 
the first sheet and stamps on the second sheet the 
date of your entry; when you recross the frontier 
the date and place of your exit are stamped on the 
second sheet ; your goings and comings continue to 
be thus stamped on the second sheet until you 
leave the country for the last time, then the officer 
retains the second sheet, and on the third one cer- 
tifies that you have made your final exit. On for- 
warding this third sheet, so certified, to the Tour- 
ing Club de France the amount of your deposit for 
the country you have definitely left is at once sent 
to you at any point you request. 

As we purposed motoring in several countries 
the total deposit we had to make with the club's 
treasurer amounted to nearly two thousand 
francs, but just as soon as the Get-There was 
shipped from Naples to New York the last franc 
was promptly refunded ; the convenience afforded 
us in getting in and out of the various countries 
visited was well worth the hundred days' use of 
our money and the fee of twenty francs which the 
club charged for issuing the triptyques. Some- 



142 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

times, as when visiting the battlefields of 1870, be- 
tween Mars le Tour and Metz, we crossed back- 
ward and forward between France and Germany 
several times in the course of half a day; as we 
had triptyqnes this entailed little delay. Without 
triptyques half a day might have been consumed 
in making a single frontier crossing. It takes only 
a minute to show a triptyque and have it stamped, 
whereas to have an automobile weighed and mi- 
nutely described for future identification takes 
anywhere from an hour to a day, according to the 
humor of the frontier official making the inventory. 

We left our hotel in Paris one Sunday morning 
at ten o'clock, drove down the Eue de Rivoli and 
along the quais to the Porte de Charenton and 
stopped there for a few minutes to get a certificate 
showing that we were leaving the capital with 
forty liters of essence in the Get-There 's tank. 
Then we motored five miles through a wooded 
park to Joinville le Pont and rode for forty-seven 
kilometers over a rough stone-paved highway to a 
little town of 14,000 inhabitants called Meaux. 

All roads radiating out of Paris are paved with 
round stones for a considerable distance; we 
heaved a sigh of relief on reaching Meaux, where 
the rough road ended and a perfect road began — 
a road hard and smooth and broad and shaded by 
the customary double row of stately trees. Be- 
cause of the "pavee" road it took the Get-There 



The Road to Rheims 143 

an hour and a half to travel that first thirty miles ; 
the second thirty miles were covered in sixty 
minntes. 

A quarter-past twelve o'clock found us at 
Chateau Thierry, a picturesque town, where in 
1814 Napoleon fought a fierce battle in his des- 
perate efforts to keep the allied armies out of 
Paris. On a hill right in the town are the ruins 
of as ancient a castle as there is in all France — a 
castle built by Charles Martel twelve hundred 
years ago. Climbing the one hundred steps that 
lead from a street in the town to the top of that 
hill, we lunched amid the castle ruins and looked 
down on the town where Napoleon made his last 
stand before going to Fontainebleau to attempt 
suicide and then to abdicate his throne and set out 
for Elba. 

After lunch we passed through Dormans, Ver- 
neuil and several other towns and villages, and at 
four o'clock in the afternoon arrived at Eheims, 
exactly one hundred miles from our starting point 
in Paris. At the gate of Eheims the octroi officer 
gave us a paper printed in three languages warn- 
ing motorists not to go faster than ten kilometers 
an hour. 

1 ' Ten kilometers an hour V ' I exclaimed. ' ' Why, 
a man on foot goes faster than that!" 

The octroi officer hastened to explain that the 
law was not enforced and that we need pay no at- 



144 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

tention to it. It seemed funny to give us a printed 
notice not to go faster than six miles an hour, and 
at the same time tell us verbally to go as fast as 
we liked. At first we did not know whether to 
trust this verbal assurance, but we soon saw that 
people in Eheims motored just as fast as they do 
in Paris — that is, they habitually go thirty and 
even forty miles an hour. So we threw the printed 
warning away and drove as the spirit prompted 
during our stay in the city of champagne and 
churches. 

All travelers who visit Eheims go to the mag- 
nificent cathedral where, through Joan of Arc's 
work, Charles VII was crowned king; and all go, 
or should go, to see the champagne caves which 
extend for many miles underneath the city. At 
the home of "Pommery Sec" we descended one 
hundred and sixteen broad stone steps and walked 
through some of its thirteen miles of subterranean 
streets, in which are stored twelve million bottles 
of champagne. Prior to this visit we had always 
thought three to five dollars too much to charge 
for a bottle of champagne, but after seeing the in- 
finite pains and trouble involved in the business 
we think it strange the price can be so little. 

Every one of those twelve million bottles has to 
be handled, not once, but scores of times. The 
bottles are placed on racks in a slanting position, 
necks downward, and every day for three months 



The Road to Rheims 14*5 

each bottle is turned a fraction of an inch ; a white 
mark is made on the bottle's side each time it is 
turned, so as to denote the exact spot that has 
been moved. At the end of three months of this 
nursing and coddling the cork is removed, the sedi- 
ment that accumulates is poured off and the cork 
replaced. After another period the bottle is again 
uncorked, the new sediment poured off, the bottle 
filled almost full with more wine and then sweet 
liqueur added. The quantity of the liqueur de- 
pends on whether the champagne is to be sweet or 
dry. If no liqueur at all is used the wine is called 
"brut," and consequently is even more "dry" 
than Vin Sec. 

Eussians like their wine very sweet and in those 
underground streets labeled "Moscow," "St. 
Petersburg" and "Odessa" we saw men uncork- 
ing the bottles and putting in as much as five tea- 
spoonfuls of liqueur to the quart. When the 
liqueur has been added and the cork put back for 
the last time, each bottle is carefully examined be- 
fore an electric light to see that the wine is clear 
and free from sediment. All this tedious labor 
must be performed deep down under the earth in 
cold, damp caves — a long, disagreeable, expensive 
process, which quite accounts for the high price 
this sparkling beverage commands. In Rheims 
you can get a quart bottle of the best champagne 



146 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

for $1.80; elsewhere in France the usual price is 
three dollars. It is $4.50 in the United States. 

In the Pommery caves are several enormous 
bas-reliefs carved on the chalk walks of the subter- 
ranean passages. The figures of these bas-reliefs, 
which are life-sized, are those of men and women 
engaged in bacchanalian revelries — Bacchus at 
the head of a table under which his fellow revel- 
ers are lying overcome by wine, intoxicated women 
dancing nude, etc. Champagne doubtless does 
produce such results when partaken of too freely, 
but why that fact should be emphasized by a maker 
of champagne was not clear. 

Twenty miles from Rheims is the field of Cha- 
lons, where the French army holds its annual ma- 
neuvers and where fifteen hundred years ago was 
fought what was not only one of the greatest bat- 
tles in history, but the last battle in which victory 
ever perched upon Rome's imperial eagles. The 
beginning of the fifth century found the Roman 
Empire everywhere crumbling and falling into 
decay — an easy prey to the hordes of fierce bar- 
barians which poured in from the wilds of east- 
ern Europe and Asia. After the Roman Empire 
south of the Danube had been conquered and laid 
waste, Attila and Genseric, King of the Vandals, 
marshaled a host which historians say numbered 
seven hundred thousand men. With this vast 
army, inured to hardships and flushed with vie- 



The Road to Rheims 147 

tory, Attila assumed the title "Scourge of God" 
and advanced upon western Europe with the 
avowed purpose of crushing Christianity and re- 
storing paganism, with himself as supreme ruler 
of the world— truly, a bold design, but one not 
wholly chimerical when we consider the barbarian 
chieftain's military talents, the vast size of his 
army and the then enervated and decayed condi- 
tion of the Roman Empire. 

For a while the issue was in doubt— nay, for a 
while, indeed, it seemed almost certain that Attila 
would win and that Europe would be forced to 
abjure Christianity and revert to the worship of 
pagan gods. The innumerable host of Huns and 
Vandals poured through Germany, across the 
Rhine into France and penetrated beyond Paris 
as far as Orleans before the wave reached its 
height and broke, happily for humanity, never to 
rise so high again ! 

Although the Rome of the fifth century was but 
a feeble and a degenerate reminiscence of the 
Rome of the Caesars it had in Aetius a general not 
unworthy of the empire's former days of glory. 
Aetius hastened across the Alps with a body of 
men so small, as Gibbon says, it "scarcely de- 
served the name of an army." But with con- 
summate skill the Roman general won to his sup- 
port Theodoric and his Gothic warriors, and also 
all the other tribes of Gaul and Germany, and the 



148 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

final battle was fought at Chalons in the year 451. 
The Huns and Vandals outnumbered the Komans 
and their allies two, some historians say three, to 
one ; but once again, and for the very last time in 
all its long twelve hundred years of history, 
Rome's military genius prevailed over the mere 
numerical superiority of barbarians. Of the mil- 
lion men who crossed swords at Chalons three hun- 
dred thousand remained dead on the battlefield — 
a slaughter so unparalleled in the annals of war as 
"to justify the historian's remark that whole gen- 
erations may be swept away, by the madness of 
kings, in the space of a single hour. ,, 

As believers in Christianity and in the ines- 
timable blessings which Christianity has conferred 
upon humanity, we could not but feel moved by 
emotion as we approached this historic field 
where fifteen hundred years ago the fate of Chris- 
tianity and of civilization itself hung trembling 
in the balance. When France was Gaul it was 
not the densely populated country we know to- 
day; the fields where Attila's innumerable horde 
hurled itself to destruction against the Roman 
legions extended a length of one hundred and fifty 
miles and a breadth of one hundred miles, practi- 
cally embracing the whole province of what is now 
called Champagne. Naturally, with a dense popu- 
lation the greater part of that vast field has come 
under cultivation, but the central part is to-day 



The Road to Rlieims 149 

as it was fifteen hundred years ago, an open 
square some miles in extent; and on the spot 
where Attila raised a huge pyramid of the wooden 
saddles of his cavalry to serve as his funeral pyre, 
in the event of the destruction of his army, the sol- 
diers of France now hold their annual maneuvers. 
Looking down the long white road between its 
two rows of trees as we approached the field of 
Chalons from the northwest, some miles ahead of 
us we saw an obelisk which we supposed might 
have associations connected with the great battle 
of the fifth century, but on nearing it we found 
that the obelisk was erected to Napoleon III. An 
inscription on the pedestal contained this extract 
from a letter which that emperor wrote on August 
15th, 1867, the ninety-eighth birthday of his fa- 
mous uncle: 

"Le n ombre et le bon etat des chemins sont un des signes 
les plus certains de l'etat avance de la civilisation despeuples." 

(The number and good condition of the roads are one 
of the most certain signs of the advanced state of a people's 
civilization.) 

The last French emperor is called Napoleon the 
Little, and he certainly ivas little compared with 
his putative uncle, but his sentiments on the good 
roads question can but command the approval of 
mankind — at any rate, of that portion of man- 
kind which rides in automobiles. 

While we were sitting in the Get-There reading 



150 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

the inscription on that obelisk we heard a curious 
noise in the air, and, looking up, we beheld an 
aeroplane whizzing along fifty feet above our 
heads. It was the first time we had ever seen one, 
and as it was flying straight with the road we 
gave it a race. The Get-There won, but only by 
advancing the spark lever and opening the throttle 
wide. For that man-bird was hurtling through the 
air at the rate of forty miles an hour. At the end 
of the field, two miles from the obelisk, the aero- 
plane turned sharply to the left and we stopped 
to await its return, which was not for a quarter 
of an hour. During that time we descended from 
the Get-There to enter the aeroplane's "hangar" 
(shed), which stood not far from where we had 
halted; a comely woman met us at the door and 
pleasantly but firmly said that admission to the 
hangar was strictly forbidden. We apologized 
for our proposed intrusion, and must have done so 
with some grace, for the comely woman relented 
and said we might enter if we wished. 

" Though really,' ' she added, " there is nothing 
to see. The hangar is empty. My husband is 
flying." 

That first time it sounded odd to hear a woman 
say in a careless way that her husband was not at 
home, that he was flying ! 

"You are, then, Mrs. Fai-man?" 

"Yes." 



The Road to Rheims 151 

"And look, there comes Mr. Farman !" ex- 
claimed Beamer, pointing to an object in the air 
a quarter of a mile away; to ns it seemed a mere 
speck in the sky, but to Mrs. Farman 's knowing 
eye a glance was enough to detect Beamer 's error. 

"That is not Mr. Farman," she remarked quiet- 
ly. * ' That is his pupil, an Englishman who bought 
a machine three weeks ago and is learning to fly. 
He enjoys the sport. The very first day that he 
took a lesson he was able to fly around the field. 
He did not fly high, only five or ten feet above 
the grass, but it was flying and it made him an 
enthusiast. ,, 

As Mrs. Farman spoke the aeroplane landed 
lightly on the grass a few yards from where we 
stood, and the English aviator remained in his 
seat to observe Farman 's aeroplane, which was 
approaching from the direction of the obelisk. I 
remarked that Mr. Farman seemed about to alight 
— and then I saw a look of alarm come into Mrs. 
Farman's face as she seized hold of Beamer 's arm 
for support. It all happened in an instant and 
made us appreciate the hazard of this new sport 
as we had not done a few minutes before while 
the Englishman and Mr. Farman were flying with 
such apparent ease and certainty. 

Mr. Farman was flying straight toward the aero- 
plane resting on the grass ; had he been trying to 
hit it he could not have taken better aim. The 



152 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Englishman leaped from his seat and ran to get 
away from the impending catastrophe; Mrs. Far- 
man closed her eyes and almost swooned in my 
wife's arms. At the same instant Mr. Farman 's 
aeroplane, as if by one last supreme effort, just 
as it reached the Englishman's machine, lifted it- 
self a little, sped swiftly along, a bare six inches 
above the aeroplane on the ground, cut off as with 
a giant's knife the top branches of the tree under 
which we were standing, and the next moment lay 
on the far side of the road in a field of yellow 
wheat. I ran across to it as fast as my legs could 
carry me, expecting to find an injured, if not a 
dead, aviator; but with the luck that has always 
attended him Mr. Farman had escaped without a 
bruise. His machine was injured, but he himself 
emerged from the wreck smiling, and in a few mo- 
ments was by his wife's side assuring her the 
incident was a trifle. Something had happened 
to his motor, and only a dexterous twist of the 
rudder, made in the very nick of time, had lifted 
his apparatus enough to glide over, instead of 
crashing down upon, the Englishman's aeroplane 
where it rested on the ground. 

This exciting occurrence proved as effective as 
a letter of introduction; Mrs. Farman introduced 
her husband and both treated us with genuine cor- 
diality. We lunched together at the little hotel 
of Mourmelon and after lunch Mr. Farman 



The Road to Rheims 153 

showed us the surprise lie was planning for the 
great contest at Rheims — it was a new biplane with 
a more powerful motor and a greater gasoline- 
carrying capacity than ever seen before. 

"With this machine I shall win the grand 
prize/ ' declared Mr. Farman, confidently, and he 
did. A few weeks later, waiting till the last day 
of the tournament to see what records he had to 
surpass, Farman brought forth his " Surprise/ ' 
glided into the air and remained there until the 
frantic cheering of a hundred thousand people told 
him as he flew in front of the grandstand that he 
had broken the world's record and had won the 
the first prize of fifty thousand francs ! 



CHAPTER IX 

Pyramid on the Hill of Valmy. — No. 8 Avenue Victor Hugo, 
Ste. Menehould — On the Battlefields of 1870.— Mars le Tour. 
— Gravellote. — Metz. — Steuerkarten and Triptyques. — Nancy. 

F T was four o'clock when we bade the Farmans 
A good-by and motored away from the field of 
Chalons. At the end of two hours of riding 
through a rolling country, now through forests, 
now amid fields of green and yellow, we halted on 
top of a high hill to survey the beautiful country 
and to look at the pyramid placed on the peak of 
the hill to commemorate the first great victory of 
the French Eevolution. On the pyramid are 
carved these words : 

"Des Francais reconnoissants, a celui qui les a preserves 
de l'invasion. Ici sont morts les braves du 20 — 7 bre, 1792. Un- 
soldat qui les commandait en ce jour, le G. al Kellermann, 
Marechal, Due et Pair de France, a voulu en mourant que son 
coeur fut place au milieu d'eux" 

(Greetings from the French to him who preserved them 
from invasion. Here lie the brave dead of September 20, 1792. 
A soldier who commanded on that day, Gen. Kellermann, a 
Marshal, Duke and Peer of France, in dying declared his wish 
that his heart should be buried in their midst.) 

His heart is buried there, and near-by is an 

154 



From Valmy to Nancy 155 

heroic bronze statue of Kellermann — his cocked 
hat in his left hand, sword held aloft in the right 
hand, his head bent forward as if urging his men 
to charge the enemy. Dumouriez, who was on this 
hill that July day, did as much as Kellermann to 
hurl the invaders back from French soil, and he 
shared with Kellermann the glory of the victory 
of Valmy; but neither Dumouriez 's name nor 
statue appear on the hill which he helped to make 
famous, for when the Kevolution became a Ter- 
ror Dumouriez deserted the French army and of- 
fered his sword to France's enemies — a thing his 
countrymen have neither forgiven nor forgotten. 
On one side of the pyramid is carved this line 
from Goethe : 

"De ce lieu et de ce jour date une nouvelle epoque dans 
l'histoire du monde." (Prom this spot and from this day 
dates a new epoch in the history of the world.) 

Prior to Valmy the monarchs of Europe had 
sneered at the Eevolution. "The Paris sanscu- 
lottes can assassinate unarmed men and women, 
but when they meet soldiers they will fly like 
poultry. ' ' 

So thought and spoke Europe's kings, and 
forthwith marshaled their armies and led them 
across the Ehine. Then Danton's stentorian voice 
rolled out from the Convention Hall in tones of 
thunder : 



156 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

1 ' The coalesced kings of Europe threaten us ; as 
wager of battle we hurl at their feet the head of a 
king!' 7 

One timid soul wanted to know where were the 
men who were to fight the hosts of the coalesced 
kings. Danton replied impetuously: "We have 
but to stamp our feet on the ground and a million 
men will spring forth to hurl themselves like a 
thunderbolt upon France's invaders!" 

The forces of revolution and monarchy met at 
Valmy on a field dominated by the hill where we 
stood at sunset that August day, and as Carlyle 
said, "the French sansculottes did not fly like 
poultry. ' ' On the contrary, they fought with des- 
perate valor and made the kings' armies fly out 
of France a good deal quicker than they had 
marched in. 

As large as looms the village of Valmy in his- 
tory, in its physical actuality it is a very small 
an a very unprepossessing place; and so, al- 
though the sun had set by the time we left the hill 
and entered the village, we decided to push on. 
The weather was pleasant, there was a full moon 
and we enjoyed the experience of a moonlight ride 
over the hills and through the valleys of that 
beautiful French province. A few miles from 
Valmy we passed through Ste. Menehould, the 
town of five thousand inhabitants where Marie 
Antoinette's brief period of freedom ended and 



From Valmy to Nancy 157 

her march to the guillotine began. She and 
Louis XVI had left the Tuileries in disguise ; they 
traveled over the same road the Get-There was 
traversing, but with the poorer pavements of that 
time it took them days to do what we did in hours. 

At first the poor fugitives scarcely breathed, so 
fearful were they of being discovered ; but as mile 
after mile was covered with no evil development 
they gathered courage and dreamed of freedom. 
Then came the little town of Ste. Menehould with 
Old Dragoon Druet, and from that moment every 
step the king and queen took brought them nearer 
to prison and to the scaffold. 

The Get-There entered Ste. Menehould about the 
same time of night that the royal fugitives entered 
it that unhappy night in June, 1791; and, like 
them, we drove through the town to its eastern 
end and stopped at No. 8 in the street that is now 
called the Avenue Victor Hugo. The two-story 
stone house at that number is to-day, as it was 
one hundred and twenty years ago, national prop- 
erty; it is now a "Gendarmerie Nationale" — that 
is a sleeping quarters for gendarmes. In the good 
old days, before steam and railroads changed the 
ways of travel, No. 8 Avenue Victor Hugo was a 
post-station, where were changed the horses which 
the government hired to travelers. Over the door 
is still carved the word "Poste." 

It was through this door that the king and queen 



158 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

entered to rest in the post-room while fresh horses 
were put to their carriage. Had they not been 
tired by the long ride from Paris, or, being tired, 
had they nevertheless borne it and remained 
cramped up in their carriage, how different might 
have been some of history's pages! Old Dragoon 
Druet, sitting in the post-room smoking his pipe 
and fingering a new "Assigned," with the king's 
picture engraved in one corner, would not have 
noticed the resemblance between the fugitive Louis 
and the picture on his money; the lumbering old 
coach would have carried them out of Ste. Mene- 
hould and perhaps to Germany — and then who can 
say what would have happened! Certainly not 
the tragedy of the tower and the guillotine. Per- 
haps, with king and queen as rallying points, 
France might have been so divided that Bourbon 
rule would have been restored before, instead of 
after, Napoleon. 

But it was not so written in the Book of Fate. 
Marie Antoinette and Louis entered that little 
stone house and Old Dragoon Druet, looking first 
at his Assignat and then at Louis, recognized the 
king — and dreams of safety and of triumphal re- 
turn to Paris behind an alien army vanished for- 
ever. Old Dragoon Druet galloped on behind the 
king's coach, when it left Ste. Menehould, and 
gave the warning that led to the arrest at 
Varennes, a few miles away. 



From Valmy to Nancy 159 

Of itself the stone house at No. 8 Avenue Victor 
Hugo is commonplace and uninteresting, but its 
association with one of the most dramatic pages 
in history invests it with interest to all who have 
read Marie Antoinette 's tragic story. We stopped 
the Get-There on the street in front of the door 
and sat there for half an hour looking at the house 
and reconstructing in imagination the scene which 
took place on that street and in that house one 
hundred and twenty years ago. Gendarmes poked 
their heads out of the second-story windows and 
cried down to know what we wanted. We could 
not say we wanted to see Marie Antoinette and 
Louis and Old Dragoon Druet — that would have 
made the gendarmes think us crazy; and our sit- 
ting out there in the moonlight, staring at an ugly 
little stone house, had doubtless already done 
enough damage to our reputation for sanity. So 
we merely said our motor needed cooling, which 
satisfied the gendarmes and they went back to bed 
and left us to our dreams. 

All the way from Paris to Ste. Menehould we 
had been following pretty much the same route 
Marie Antoinette and Louis took in June, 1791, 
but here we parted company; for after Old Dra- 
goon Druet 's warning the king and queen were 
taken back to Paris, and their shades accompanied 
us no farther on our way to Germany. For an 
hour after leaving the old post-house at Ste. Mene- 



1G0 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

liould the Get-There flew along in the moonlight 
up and down hill, through forests, across valleys, 
always on a road that was broad and smooth and 
perfectly paved, and then at midnight we reached 
Verdun, where we found a comfortable room for 
ourselves and a garage for our automobile. 

Next day from Verdun to the frontier we rode 
all day in a country that has been the scene of in- 
numerable conflicts, some of them the bloodiest 
in history. At Mars le Tour are the graves of ten 
thousand men who died battling around that little 
village in 1870. A monument marks the center of 
the sanguinary struggle; but for that monument 
one would never suspect that here had been fought 
a bloody battle, the country is so smiling, so peace- 
ful, the fields so green, so beautiful, the long, 
straggling street of Mars le Tours is so quiet and 
sleepy, the villagers are so amiable and unpugna- 
cious. But forty years ago these fields were red 
with blood, these hills echoed back the thunder of 
a thousand cannon, and from every window of 
these thatched huts in Mars le Tours a French 
peasant was thrusting a rifle and shooting at a 
German soldier! At the east end of the village, 
over the door of a small house on one side of the 
road was a sign "Douane." A soldier stopped us 
as we reached that sign and an official came out of 
the house and asked where we were going? 

"To Germany," I answered. 



From Valmy to Nancy 161 

Then the official said if I had a triptyque that 
he would vise it; without his vise I could not re- 
enter France without paying another six hundred 
and seventy-six francs duty. The operation of vise- 
ing — stamping the date of our exit from France 
and signing his name — occupied less than five min- 
utes ; then we were on the way again, and in a few 
minutes crossed the imaginary line which divides 
France from Germany. An eight-foot pole, with 
a shield fastened to the top bearing the words 
"Deutsches Reich," stands by the roadside to tell 
the traveler he is no longer in France. A little be- 
yond this pole, on the right-hand side of the road, 
is a noble example of the sculptor's art — a majes- 
tic lion carved from an enormous block of marble. 
A spear is broken off in the lion's side, and he is 
dying, but even in death his paw stretches forth to 
protect the German flag and the German eagles. 
Translated, the inscription on the pedestal reads : 
"On this spot, meeting heroes' deaths in 1870, 
three hundred and seventy-seven men and fourteen 
officers fell fighting for the colors." 

A minute or two after stopping to view this 
noble reminder of a human tragedy we entered 
the village of Vienville, where the first thing that 
caught our eyes was a big sign bearing the words : 
"Halte! Zoll AmtV We halted and paid a Ger- 
man official twenty-one marks ($4.25) for an oval 
tin tag bearing the figures "9,142," and for a 



162 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"steuerkarte" which licensed us to operate a 
motor-car in Germany for fifteen days. The tin 
tag was fastened on the rear of the Get-There; 
the "steuerkarte" I put in my pocket and had no 
occasion to take it out again until we re-entered 
France; then the frontier officer scrutinized it to 
make sure that the fifteen-day limit had not ex- 
pired. In estimating the time spent in the country 
any part of a day is reckoned as a full day. For 
example, if you enter Germany at eleven p.m. and 
leave at one a.m. you have been in the country only 
two hours, but officially you have been there two 
days, and two days are charged up against you on 
your "steuerkarte." 

For not knowing, or not remembering, this rule 
an American we met got into trouble. He had en- 
tered Germany at five p.m. of Tuesday, July 27th, 
and was recrossing the frontier into France at ten 
a.m. of Wednesday, August 11th. Reckoning a 
day as twenty-four hours the American still had 
seven hours before finishing his fifteen days, but, 
counting July 27th, the day of entrance, and Au- 
gust 11th, the day of exit, each as a full day, 
he had been in Germany sixteen days ; accordingly 
the frontier officer demanded twenty-one marks, 
the fee for another fifteen days. If you stay a 
minute over your time you are charged the same 
as though you stayed another fifteen days. The 
American was indignant. 



From Valmy to Nancy 163 

" It 's a hold-up, ' ' he said. l 1 Still, I guess I have 
to pay." 

And he was reaching for his pocket-book when 
the officer added: "And for operating an automo- 
bile in Germany without a card you are fined one 
hundred and fifty marks. The sergeant will keep 
your car until the fine is paid. ' ' 

When the average tourist enters Germany he 
does not know how long he may remain, conse- 
quently he pays for only fifteen days ; the frontier 
officer tells him if he stays longer that he may pay 
for the second fifteen-day period when he recrosses 
the frontier. That is the way it is actually done, 
and ordinarily no fuss is made about it, no matter 
how long you remain, provided you square the ac- 
count when you leave. But, technically, it is un- 
lawful to move an inch after your steuerkarte has 
expired. Angered by the American's language, 
that German officer enforced the strict letter of 
the law, and the American's indignation cost him 
$37.50. 

This episode was valuable to us. Whatever our 
manners may have been prior to August 11th, 
thereafter Chesterfield himself could not have ex- 
ceeded our urbanity. And the frontier officials 
seemed to like it — at any rate, they treated us 
everywhere with the greatest courtesy. Not once 
did they require us to open our luggage ; not once 
did the viseing of our triptyques detain us more 



164 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

than a few minutes. We began our trip expecting 
all sorts of trouble; we ended it with the knowl- 
edge that the stories told us were unfounded, that 
motoring abroad is as simple a matter as it is at 
home — in fact, that it is sometimes more simple. 
For instance, it is (or was until recently) more 
trouble for a stranger to motor in New Jersey 
that in Germany. In New Jersey strangers have 
been arrested for motoring from the ferry to the 
North German Lloyd steamship pier, a distance of 
only a few blocks — and this although it was known 
that the automobile was being driven to the pier 
for shipment on the steamer. When I motored 
from St. Louis to New York in 1906 the cost of a 
New Jersey license was eight dollars, and this 
amount had to be paid whether one remained a 
day or a year in the state. Eecently the law has 
been amended so as to permit visitors passing 
through the state to buy a ten-day license, but even 
with this amendment it is more bother and expense 
for a non-resident to motor in New Jersey than it 
is anywhere in Europe. 

A short distance beyond the German frontier is 
an obelisk raised to the soldiers who fell at Gra- 
velotte ; from that obelisk on, all the way to Metz, 
there are constant reminders of those frightful 
days of August, 1870. The valley, so peaceful, so 
beautiful on the August day we motored through 



From Valmy to Nancy 165 

it, was a veritable hell in that other August forty 
years ago. 

Both sides of the highway are decorated with 
monuments, and with innumerable little crosses 
stuck up in the fields; the crosses bear either the 
words "Hier ruhen Franzosischen Krieger" or 
"Hier ruhen Deutschen Krieger" (Here rest 
French warriors, Here rest German warriors). 
Around the base of each cross is a small square of 
grass — that is all. The necessities of the living can 
not yield to sentiment for the dead. Land is scarce 
and none is wasted on mounds to mark the resting- 
places of the innumerable dead. The fields where 
they lie buried are plowed and tilled, and crops are 
sown and harvested over the bodies of tens of 
thousands of sleeping soldiers ! 

Jean had no grudge against Fritz; Fritz had 
none against Jean ; and of little moment was it to 
either of them whether the taxes they paid went 
to Paris or to Berlin. Yet, at the command of 
monarchs and ministers whom neither knew, a mil- 
lion Jeans and Fritzs flew at each other's throats, 
and tens of thousands of them reddened the fields 
with their blood and left their bodies mouldering 
in the ground to enrich the harvests of future gen- 
erations. Truly, strange animals are the Jeans 
and Fritzs of the different nations ! The day may 
come when they will see the folly as well as the 
crime of cutting the throats of men whom they do 



166 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

not know and have no reason to hate — but alas! 
that day is far, far in the future. Europe is now, 
more than ever before, an armed camp, its hun- 
dreds of millions of people toiling night and day 
and denying themselves life's luxuries, even life's 
necessities, that they may amass munitions of war 
and be prepared to kill each other on a more whole- 
sale scale than ever before in humanity's history. 
We spent the day visiting the great battlefields 
between Mars le Tour and Metz. On the wall of a 
mean little house in the village of Rezonville we 
saw a marble tablet which recited the fact that 
Field Marshal von Moltke occupied that house in 
August, 1870; across the way, in a house equally 
squalid, the Emperor William slept; in the adjoin- 
ing hut the Grand Duke of Hessen made his quar- 
ters. And in front of all three houses now stand 
piles of ill-smelling manure. Whether there were 
such piles there in 1870 to offend the royal nostrils 
I do not know, but it is likely they were there, for 
manure piles seem to be inseparable adjuncts of a 
peasant village in Germany and in French villages 
near the German frontier. One would think the 
manure might be placed somewhere in a back yard, 
but it isn't; it is invariably piled up on the street 
in front of the house, and the result is that the 
narrow, straggling street of a German peasant vil- 
lage is sometimes the reverse of pleasant and 
sweet-smelling. 



From Valmy to Nancy 167 

Five miles from Metz we saw the small village 
of Noisseville, which was the scene of the fiercest 
of all the fierce fights in 1870. The village changed 
hands a dozen times in the course of twenty-four 
hours. After a furious charge the French got pos- 
session at six p.m., but the German commander 
hurled battalion after battalion upon the miserable 
little place, and at nine p.m. the French retired — 
only to make another desperate attack, however, 
and at ten p.m. they were again in possession. But 
a few hours later the Germans recaptured the vil- 
lage; then an hour later the French got it again. 
This kept up all night and all next day, first one 
army, then the other flying its banners over 
Noisseville. But the final possession rested with 
the Germans. 

After such terrific fighting, the village changing 
hands every hour from noon of August 31st to 
nightfall of September 1st, one would imagine 
Noisseville would have been annihilated ; it seems, 
however, not to have suffered any special damage. 
Its houses look as old, its manure piles look as big 
and smell as badly as if the town had never heard 
the cannon's roar or felt the tread of contending 
armies. Noisseville was honored by all this fierce 
fighting, not because anybody cared a straw about 
its mean little houses, but because it lay directly 
in the path between the French army and Metz. 
The Germans were besieging Metz, and when the 



168 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

final fight left Noisscville in German hands, Mar- 
shal Bazaine realized that all hope of saving Metz 
was ended. A few weeks later the fortress sur- 
rendered, and the three marshals, fifty generals, 
six thousand officers and one hundred and seventy- 
three thousand soldiers who had defended it were 
sent to languish in German prisons. It was be- 
cause Bazaine foresaw that a Sedan would inevi- 
tably follow such a catastrophe that he made such 
tremendous sacrifices to gain possession of the 
squalid little village of Noisseville. 

In Metz itself we did not linger long. "We drove 
about its fortifications, the strongest in Europe, 
and we got into trouble by motoring into streets 
forbidden to automobiles ; but the helmeted police- 
men let us off with a reprimand when they saw 
that we were Americans, who really were ignorant 
of the fact that automobiles were not allowed in 
certain parts of the city. 

Leaving Metz, we ascended the picturesque val- 
ley of the Moselle and at the village of Corny a 
German frontier officer took our tin tag off the 
Get-There, stamped our steuerkarte, to show that 
we had passed out of Germany and that the count 
against our fifteen-day license was to be suspended 
until we re-entered the empire ; and presently we 
were in France again, following the Moselle as it 
wound its sinuous way through the Valley between 
two chains of vine-clad hills. Just before reach- 



From Valmy to Nancy 169 

ing the end of the day's run we saw a reminder 
of the fact that France was once a province of 
Rome — a huge aqueduct built before Christ by 
Drusus to convey water to Diodurum, the city now 
called Nancy. Drusus, by the way, was once a 
pretty busy man in these parts ; he threw bridges 
across the Rhine, cut canals, built embankments 
and erected aqueducts. And he wrought in so 
solid, workmanlike a manner that his works have 
endured for centuries. The aqueduct still stands 
after a lapse of nearly two thousand years. 

At the Hotel de l'Univers et du Commerce of 
Nancy our room, not half so grand as that ten- 
franc apartment in the hotel at Angers, cost 
twenty francs. This unusual charge was due to 
an exposition then being held in Nancy; the 
city was so crowded, the hotels were so filled with 
strangers, that we were glad to get quarters at 
any price. The night of our arrival the Place 
Stanislas, Nancy's largest and noblest square, 
was thronged by fifty thousand people to hear a 
military band and to see an illumination and fire- 
works. A regiment of cavalry patroled the square 
to keep the people from crowding into the cen- 
ter, and the way those French soldiers preserved 
peace was in striking contrast to what we saw a 
little later in Germany — everything was so good- 
humored, so neighborly. 

" Monsieur, will you have the goodness to move 



170 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

back? Madame, will you have the goodness to 
move back? Really you must not cross here. It 
is not allowed. Messieurs, Messieurs, back, a little 
farther back, s'il vous plait!" 

And the crowd laughed and tried to move back, 
but occasionally an obstreperous woman would 
squeeze through the line in spite of orders and 
then the soldiers would laugh, too. It was cer- 
tainly not strict discipline, but for all that it was 
pleasant to see. The people seemed to regard 
those soldiers as neighbors instead of masters. At 
the Frankfort Airship Exposition, a week or so 
later, we saw German soldiers order a crowd to 
make way for the landing of the airship Parsifal ; 
there was no "Will-you-have-the-kindness-to-step- 
back" business. It was simply a curt command, 
' ' Back ! ' ' in such a tone and with such a look that 
the people stood not on the order of backing but 
backed at once. 

And there was no laughing or "guying" those 
German soldiers; it was not necessary to repeat 
any command. The Germans are so accustomed 
to obey those in authority, they never dream of 
questioning an order, or of laughing at the man 
who gives it — a national trait which, a few years 
ago, enabled an impudent rogue, arrayed in a 
stolen uniform, to walk into a garrison and get 
all the money which had just been received there 
to pay off the troops. All the impostor had to do 



From Valmy to Nancy 171 

was to order the money turned over to him; his 
stolen uniform, his air of command did the rest. 
In obedience to the order of one who looked like 
an officer, the paymaster turned over his treasure 
without a question. The rascal was subsequently 
caught and sent to prison. But the whole world, 
outside of Germany, was set to laughing at this 
funny illustration of the result of overmuch rev- 
ence for uniforms and brass buttons. 



CHAPTER X 

Strasburg.— Baden-Baden. — Kuchen Fabrik revisited after 
twenty-five years. — Stuttgart. — Ulm. — Lunch in a pine for- 
est — An adventure in Augsburg. 

rpHIRTEEN miles from Nancy, at Moncel, a 
A village of a dozen or so houses, the French 
frontier officer stamped onr triptyque; five miles 
farther east the German frontier officer stamped 
our steuerkarte, showing the date of our re-entry 
into the Kaiser's domains, and he affixed upon the 
Get-There another tin tag with another number, 
and then our German tour began. The speedom- 
eter marked one thousand six hundred and twenty 
miles as we crossed the frontier near Moncel on 
August 12th, one month to the day after our land- 
ing at Havre. 

One hundred and twenty years ago when Arthur 
Young was a-horseback to Strasburg on the road 
we were now traveling, he wrote in his diary : 

"I find myself to all appearances in Germany. Looking at 
the map of France and reading histories of Louis XIV never 
threw his conquest of Alsace into the light which travelling 
into it does. To cross a great range of mountains, to enter a 
level plain inhabited by a people totally distinct and different 

172 



The German Tour Begins 173 

from French, with manners, language, ideas, and prejudices 
and habits all different, makes an impression of the injustice 
and ambition of such conduct much more forcible than read- 
ing had done — &o much more powerful are things than words." 

The injustice Young mentions has been atoned 
for. The province which Louis XIV wrested from 
Germany in 1681 was restored to Germany in 1871, 
but in those hundred and ninety years of French 
possession the spirit, if not the language, of the 
people became thoroughly French. When in 
Strasburg twenty-five years ago I wrote : 

"The people talk German, they look German, they belong 
to Germany, but their love, their affection is all for France." 
("A Tramp Trip," p. 128.) 

Since those words were written, a quarter of a 
century has passed and time has already begun to 
undo the work wrought by Louis XIV two hundred 
years ago. The older people in Strasburg may 
love France as much now as when they fought her 
battles in 1870; but the two generations which 
have been born since 1870 have known no country 
but Germany, and their spiritual as well as polit- 
ical and physical allegiance is rapidly becoming an 
asset of the Kaiser's empire. Apart from this dif- 
ference in the mental attitude of the Strasburgers 
toward Germany, the city seemed to me little 
changed from the place I saw in 1885 ; we visited 
the cathedral, we motored through the streets and 



174 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

in the parks, and spent a restful evening in a cafe 
listening to an orchestra of pretty girls and watch- 
ing the people drinking beer; then early next 
morning we went on to Baden-Baden. From Stras- 
burg the distance to Baden is only forty miles, 
so we had time to drive all about the famous 
watering-place and see the crowds of fashionably 
dressed men and women drinking the waters in 
the Conversationshaus, and still finish in good sea- 
son the day's run to Stuttgart, sixty-eight miles 
beyond Baden-Baden and a hundred and four 
miles from the morning's starting point in Stras- 
burg. 

Leaving Stuttgart Sunday morning we stopped 
four miles away at Cannstadt and breakfasted in 
the beautiful garden of the Kursaal. People do 
that sort of thing in Germany. There were hun- 
dreds of men there that Sunday morning, with 
their families, taking coffee and rolls out under 
the trees and listening to a fine orchestra playing 
in a pavilion near-by. 

Thirty-seven miles from Stuttgart on the high- 
way toward Ulm is an avenue, densely shaded by 
two rows of trees, which leads from the main road 
to a cotton factory on the banks of the little River 
Fils. Twenty-five years ago, garbed in the flannel 
shirt and loose blouse of a German Handwerks- 
bursch (strolling mechanic), I tramped those 
thirty-seven miles from Stuttgart and turned into 



The German Tour Begins 175 

that shaded avenue, expecting to stop at the fac- 
tory Gasthaus (inn) one night; instead I remained 
a week. My companion on that part of my Tramp 
Trip was a young Dutchman whom I had met at 
Wiesbaden; and the evening of our arrival, when 
a local amateur violinist displayed his talents, my 
Dutchman asked the amateur to let him try his in- 
strument. It was this request which led to our 
unexpectedly long sojourn at the Gasthaus of the 
Kuchen Fabrik. 



"The country musician eyed the Dutchman's blouse, took 
him for some village clodhopper, and naturally hesitated to 
trust him with his beloved fiddle, but the Dutchman insisted 
and gained his point. The astonishment that followed upon 
the apparent Handworksbursch's first sweep of the strings 
is indescribable. As the flood of melody and harmony poured 
forth the simple country musician and factory hands sat 
breathless, drinking in the sounds in ecstasy. They realized 
that they were in the presence of a master. That Dutchman, 
who had so often tormented me when on other matters intent, 
with his eternal whistling and humming, was one of the fore- 
most violinists of Holland. Never had that old fiddle spoken 
so eloquently. The amateur fiddler and the factory hands called 
for an encore; more beer was brought and until far in the 
night the Dutchman stood there in his blouse, now melting 
with soft, melancholy strains, now firing his hearers with some 
wild galop or Hungarian theme. The following night, at the 
fiddler's earnest entreaty, a regular concert was arranged; 
they persuaded us to stay still longer and get acquainted with 
the people; and when we left Kuchen Fabrik it was in a 
blaze of glory." 

That is from the notes I wrote at the time, and 
afterward published in my "Tramp Trip" (page 



176 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

147). Twenty-five years after that Tramp Trip, 
when the Get-There turned into that shaded ave- 
nue and stopped in front of the factory Gasthaus, 
I recognized the place instantly. The Gasthaus, 
the shady square behind it, with the tables and 
benches for the hands when they drink beer dur- 
ing the noon-hour, the little homes of the workers 
— all were the same. Nothing had changed except- 
ing the people. They were different, for it was a 
new generation that crowded around me this time ; 
of those who were there when the two tramps came 
walking up that shaded avenue the majority had 
passed to the Great Beyond. Those who remained 
were grown old and gray, but some remembered 
me. The Wirth (host) of our Tramp Trip visit 
had been dead twenty years, but his son succeeded 
him in the management of the factory Gasthaus, 
and when he learned that I was the tramp of that 
long-ago time excitement soon ran high in that 
little factory settlement. 

"I was sixteen years old when you were here," 
said the new Wirth. "I remember you. I heard 
your friend play. Ach, mein Gott, how he did 
play! Such music! We never had such music 
here again. Und der Geiger, wo ist er dann?" 
(where is the fiddler?) 

"In Amsterdam, and a very great virtuoso has 
he become." 

" Ach , Gott f das wundert mich nicht (I am not 



The German Tour Begins 177 



&' 



surprised. He was wonderful). And now I will 
tell my mother. My father — you remember him, 
he was very thick? (fat) — he is dead these twenty 
years, but my mother is here. You must see her. 
Ach, Gott, to think the American tramp should 
come back after twenty-five years ! ' ' 

To that worthy Wirth, who had never been a 
hundred miles from his home, America seemed 
indeed a distant land ; to him it was as if a voyager 
had returned from the moon. In the big room 
where the young Dutchman played the fiddle that 
night a quarter of a century ago, Beamer and I 
ate our dinner surrounded by a crowd of the older 
hands, who remembered the tramps and who 
were curious to know how I had made money 
enough to travel through Europe in an automobile. 
America must be a wonderful country, indeed, 
they said, if even a tramp could do such things. 
When we departed shortly after dinner the men 
followed us through the shaded avenue as far as 
the main road, and stood there waving their hats 
and cheering as the Get-There turned to the east 
and bore us swiftly away up the valley — the same 
valley followed by the Grand Army of Napoleon 
in October, 1805. 

The road winds along the base of the Hohen- 
staufen mountains amid very picturesque scenery, 
and shortly before Ulm is reached there is a long, 
steady, steep climb. The day we traveled over 



178 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

that road was August 15th, the hundred and for- 
tieth anniversary of Napoleon's birth, and in rec- 
ognition of that coincidence, as well as to let the 
Get-There 's motor cool, when we reached the sum- 
mit of the heights overlooking Ulm, we stopped 
for an hour to look down on the spires and roofs 
of the quaint old German city, and to muse over 
the thrilling scene enacted on that very spot one 
hundred and four years before. 

In all the marvelous career of that marvelous 
man never did his military genius shine brighter 
than in the campaign which began on the march 
over this road to Ulm, and which ended at Auster- 
litz six weeks later — Napoleon himself always re- 
garded this as the culminating point, the climax, 
the zenith of his career. In that campaign more 
than in any of the others the Little Corporal won 
battles with his soldiers' legs rather than with 
their bayonets and guns. There had been no 
declaration of war; the Austrian minister re- 
mained quietly at his post in Paris ; Napoleon was 
at Boulogne planning his invasion of England, 
when Austria and Eussia, thinking to strike be- 
fore he knew it, said no word of war, but secretly 
set their armies in motion. 

General Mack set out from Vienna with eighty 
thousand men and at the same time the Emperor 
Alexander started down from the north with one 
hundred and sixteen thousand Russians. From 



The German Tour Begins 179 

other points three hundred thousand more soldiers 
were massing — altogether half a million were con- 
verging toward the French frontier ; to make suc- 
cess assured all they had to do was to get together, 
to unite their forces before Napoleon attacked 
them — an easy thing, they thought, for he was a 
thousand miles away on the English Channel busy 
with his project of invasion. There were no rail- 
roads or telegraphs in those days; news traveled 
slowly. The allies reckoned that by the time Napo- 
leon learned the meaning of their movements 
it would be too late for him to prevent their sev- 
eral armies from forming a union. 

It would have been too late with any soldier of 
lesser genius than the great Corsican, but with 
him the seemingly impossible was often accom- 
plished. When couriers brought word to the camp 
at Boulogne of the sudden massing of huge armies 
in eastern Europe, without an instant's hesitation 
Napoleon abandoned all of his vast preparations 
for the English invasion and started the army en- 
camped about Boulogne on forced marches toward 
the Ehine and the Danube into Austria. Jose- 
phine went with him as far as Strasburg; there 
she remained, for from that time on his move- 
ments were too strenuous, too rapid to be endured 
by any woman. Before the allies deemed it pos- 
sible for an enemy to have marched from Bou- 
logne, even as far as the Ehine, the French had 



180 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

left the Rhine behind them, had silently stolen 
through the defiles of the Black Forest, marched 
clear across Wiirttemberg and thrown themselves 
in the rear of the Austrian army. And the Czar 
with his one hundred and sixteen thousand Rus- 
sians had not yet advanced even so near as Bohe- 
mia; without them General Mack was utterly 
unable to cope with Napoleon. Afraid to advance 
farther into the enemy's land, and cut off from 
retreat into his own country by the French army 
which, as by a miracle, had suddenly appeared in 
his rear, the entire Austrian army of eighty thou- 
sand men was forced to surrender without firing 
hardly a gun. On the hill where we halted that 
Sunday afternoon on Napoleon's hundred and for- 
tieth birthday, Napoleon and his staff stood on 
October 20th, 1805, and watched the melancholy 
sight of a vanquished army defiling before its con- 
queror. So vast was the number of captives, it 
required five hours for them to pass by the hill; 
Napoleon sat on his horse until the last Austrian 
had passed before him ; then he rode down the hill 
and entered Ulm by the same road which the Get- 
There traversed that Sunday afternoon. In the 
bulletin which Napoleon wrote as soon as he en- 
tered Ulm he said : 

"Soldiers of the Grand Army! I announced to you a great 
battle; but thanks to the faulty combinations of the enemy, 
we have overwhelmed him without incurring any risk, 



The German Tour Begins 181 

"Soldiers, this astonishing success is owing to your bound- 
less confidence in your emperor, to your patience in under- 
going fatigue, to your rare intrepidity! " 

The soldiers knew Napoleon meant victory came 
to them because of their legs, and during the fol- 
lowing six weeks they uncomplainingly made such 
forced marches as until then had never been made 
by any army in warfare's history. After telling 
of the sacrifices, of the nights as well as days of 
marching which he was about to ask of them, a 
bulletin of Napoleon's concluded by saying: 
" There are no generals in the enemy's army which 
it would add to my glory to vanquish ; all my care 
is to obtain the victory with as little effusion of 
blood as possible. My soldiers are my children.' ' 

And how those Frenchmen did march after 
reading that bulletin ! The Little Corporal would 
nearly kill them with fatigue and loss of sleep, but 
that was better than being defeated, better even 
than winning a victory at the expense of thousands 
of killed and wounded. So they marched and ma- 
neuvered and ran until the sun rose on Austerlitz. 
And then Eussians and Austrians received such a 
crushing defeat that in far-off England Wil- 
liam Pitt, the organizer of this coalition against 
France, rolled up the map of Europe and ex- 
claimed sadly : ' ' There will be no use to open that 
map again for half a century!" Pitt died soon 
after of chagrin and disappointment, little dream- 



182 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

ing how signally Austerlitz was to be avenged at 
Waterloo, not after half a century, but within a 
dozen years. 

For miles around Ulm there are signs announc- 
ing that Herr August Schweizer, at No. 10 Lang- 
strasse, sells benzine at thirty pfennige the liter. 
The usual price in Bavaria is from forty to fifty 
pfennige, but Herr Schweizer's Napoleonic meth- 
ods have conquered all opposition. For a while 
his rivals formed a coalition and announced a price 
of twenty-five pfennige, but, like, the coalition of 
1805, it was followed by an ignominious surrender 
at Ulm ; for Herr Schweizer cut his price to twenty 
pfennige and kept it there until the allies gave up 
the fight ; then he put the price back to thirty pfen- 
nige, at which figure it has remained ever since — 
low enough to prevent any competition and appar- 
ently high enough to give Herr Schweizer a profit, 
for his establishment is the busiest and most pros- 
perous-looking one in the city. 

All motorists to Ulm visit first of all, not the 
interesting old cathedral or the curious old Eaths- 
haus, but the establishment of Herr August 
Schweizer. When we arrived there a number of 
automobiles were lined up in the street ahead of 
us, and we had to wait our turn before getting our 
supply of the liquid which has so revolutionized 
methods of modern travel. Across the street from 
Herr Schweizer's place is the Burgomaster's 



The German Tour Begins 183 

house, an ancient edifice only two stories high, but 
with a steep sloping roof that is itself four stories 
high ; the exterior walls are covered with very old 
but very well preserved frescoes. By the time we 
had looked at these pictures Herr Schweizer an- 
nounced that the Get-There 's tank was filled. We 
paid him fifteen marks (at the usual price it would 
have cost twenty to twenty-five marks) and soon 
we were once more on the way to Munich. 

German roads are not so wide nor so good 
as French roads ; in passing hay wagons automo- 
biles must slow up and maneuver this way and 
that in order to avoid collisions. The previous 
day (Saturday) we had met dozens of these big 
wagons drawn by cows as well as oxen (Query: 
are the horses kept for the army?), and in conse- 
quence we did not make fast time. There were no 
hay wagons on Sunday, neither were there any 
hills, so the Get-There fairly flew along after leav- 
ing Ulm. The country was flat and uninteresting, 
and we knew when we entered Bavaria by the 
change in the color and price of the beer. Bava- 
rian beer is cheaper and much darker than the 
beer of other parts of Germany. 

Twenty-three miles east of Ulm, at Giinzburg — 
a picturesque place, with a castle looking down on 
the Danube river — we found the town jammed 
with booths and with men, women and children. 
It was a quarterly fair, and for miles around the 



184 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

country was emptied of its people, who had come 
here to spend the day, shop at the fair, drink gal- 
lons of black beer and chat with friends. Life in a 
peasant village is none too gay, and these fairs, 
which are held three times a year, are great events 
— eagerly looked forward to for weeks before they 
are held and, when over, looked back upon and en- 
joyed in retrospection. It was a dense but a good- 
natured crowd which thronged the main street of 
Giinzburg. The Get-There had to crawl along at a 
snail's pace and the "honk" and the siren were 
both kept in action to help clear a way ; the women 
smiled and the men laughed as they got to one side 
to let us pass, and some lifted their jugs of beer 
and drank to our health, when at last the end of 
the jam was reached and the Get-There, changing 
into high speed, forged ahead swift as an arrow, 
as if eager to make up for lost time. 

There were no trees along the roadside to inter- 
pose a grateful shade between us and the August 
sun, and for a while we were sorry we were not 
back in France, but presently we came to a pine 
forest and then all regret vanished; for a more 
restful, more beautiful, more delightful thing than 
a German pine forest on a hot summer day is not 
easy to imagine. The road ran through the middle 
of the forest, a long white band between two walls 
of tall trees, so close together that the sun filtered 
through in little dots — like a million diamonds 



The German Tour Begins 185 



to' 



glistening everywhere amid the dense green, but 
nowhere enough open space to let the light enter 
in a mass. On the ground was a soft carpet of 
pine-needles. We spread a cloth on these, opened 
the basket and Thermos bottles and lunched there 
in nature's cathedral, over our heads Gothic 
arches, formed by pine-tree boughs, more beauti- 
ful than any arches made to adorn man's churches. 

So dense was the forest, there was an echo when 
we began to sing an old German lied — so distinct 
an echo that we were startled and looked around, 
thinking for an instant that others were there 
sharing the shade and the coolness and the stillness 
of that restful place. But no one else was in the 
forest, nor did any travelers pass on the road dur- 
ing the hour we were there — we had it all to our- 
selves; and I may add that during our fifteen 
days' motoring in Germany these delightful for- 
ests, of which we saw a number, more than made 
up for the absence of the roadside shade trees 
which are so pleasing a feature of the highways 
of France. Since one is never hot in a a moving 
automobile, roadside trees may well be spared if 
at noon one finds under a roof of cool foliage a 
carpet of pine-needles whereon to rest and to re- 
flect on the marvelous works of God and man that 
are ever present to the eyes of observant travelers. 

Owing to time lost in passing through the crowd 
at Giinzburg, and to stopping in the forest to 



186 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

lunch, it was five p.m. when the Get-There entered 
the ancient city of Augsburg. There an hour was 
spent, driving through the narrow, winding streets 
and looking at the queer old houses adorned with 
frescoes, their steep four and five-story gable 
roofs sagging forward as if trying to meet the 
roofs across the way; then we turned into the 
Maximilianstrasse, which is wider than Wash- 
ington's Pennsylvania Avenue, and we saw lined 
up on both sides of the street some very old build- 
ings. A particularly interesting place was the 
Eathshaus with its three-century-old paintings on 
the walls, its old-fashioned stove thirty-five feet 
high, its Council Chamber with a ceiling paneled 
by huge oak beams blackened in the course of 
many centuries. The Fugger house is also one of 
Augsburg's sights, but we could not see its won- 
derful frescoes; for when we drove by it that 
August afternoon scaffolds were against the front 
walls from the ground clear up to the roof, and 
artists were engaged in retouching for the first 
time in hundreds of years the frescoes which for 
so many centuries have looked down on the Maxi- 
milianstrasse to tell passers-by of the greatness 
and glory of the Fugger family. The work of re- 
touching will take three years and will cost a great 
deal of money, but the Fuggers, although no 
longer the dominant family they were a few cen- 
turies ago, are still people of power and wealth, 



The German Tour Begins 187 

able to employ the finest artists to work on the 
mansion which they still occupy, and which their 
ancestors before them have occupied for nearly 
seven hundred years. 

Another interesting building in Augsburg is 
that where, in 1530, the Emperor Charles V con- 
vened a Diet at which the Protestant princes sub- 
mitted a statement of their articles of faith. This 
statement, drawn up by Martin Luther, Melanc- 
thon and others, contained twenty-eight articles, 
which from that day to this have been known as 
the "Augsburg Confession of Faith' ' — the relig- 
ious guide for the Protestants of Germany. 

So long did we linger in Augsburg's quaint old 
streets, it was seven o'clock when we started for 
Munich. The distance thither was forty-four 
miles, but in spite of the lateness of our start we 
would have reached the Bavarian capital in time 
for dinner had not Beamer's sudden longing for 
"schmierkaese" resulted in events that set at 
naught all our calculations. It was just after leav- 
ing the Maximilianstrasse at its eastern end and 
turning to the left to enter the open country that 
we saw the beer garden which caused the trouble. 
Several thousand people were there listening to a 
band of music and drinking beer. As we passed 
Beamer said: 

"Let us stop a few minutes. I want to see what 
real schmierkaese tastes like. It is so good in 



188 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

America that here in Germany it must be de- 
licious." 

I remarked on the lateness of the hour, also on 
the fact that Munich was forty-four miles away, 
but Beamer said in a large city we could get din- 
ner at any hour, even at midnight, but that 
schmierkaese — the real, genuine schmierkaese — 
that, she felt certain, could only be had in a quaint 
old Bavarian garden such as that we were then 
passing. Yielding to her persuasion, I ran the 
Get-There close to the curb, and presently we were 
sitting at a table under the trees ordering schmier- 
kaese and incidentally being observed by at least 
a thousand pairs of eyes ; for begoggled, dust-cov- 
ered motorists do look a little odd amid a throng 
of men and women dressed up in their best Sunday 
clothes. However, we had no time to think of this, 
for in a few minutes the waitress returned and 
said they had no schmierkaese. 

"Ridiculous !" exclaimed Beamer. "She has 
misunderstood your German. Describe how it is 
made; then she will understand and will fetch us 
some. ,, 

I did the best I could. I described the rich, 
creamy stuff eaten with salt and pepper and 
sprinkled over with that little onion-tasting and 
smelling herb called "chives." I told the red- 
cheeked waitress how every beer garden in Amer- 
ica serves this dish, and how some gardens become 



The German Tour Begins 189 



& ( 



celebrated merely because they make it a little bet- 
ter than the others. She listened wonderingly and 
said she had never heard of it. At this moment 
the Herr Direktor came up to see what the trouble 
was. I repeated my description, but he, too, had 
never heard of such a dish. Whereupon Beamer 
smiled — a smile that expressed an opinion of my 
German as plainly as if she had spoken in words. 

"You shall see that the fault is this man's, not 
mine, ,, I said, and turned to him with the inten- 
tion of bidding him bring forth the head cook 
when, with a look of sudden relief, he exclaimed : 

"Ah, hier hommt der Herr Besitzer (here comes 
the Mr. Owner) ; perhaps he will understand your 
wishes.' ' 

A well-dressed man, with keen gray eyes and 
upturned mustache, was approaching; with him 
were two ladies. The Herr Direktor spoke to the 
man with the keen gray eyes, who thereupon lifted 
his Panama hat and asked in what way he might 
serve us. Again I explained about the creamy 
stuff with the pepper and chives, and the man with 
the keen gray eyes said : 

"Ah, of course, I understand. You mean Thap- 
fenkaese. We have none here, but one of my men 
will get some for you." 

Then, introducing himself as Herr Brauerei 

Besitzer v S , and the ladies as his wife 

and sister, they took seats at our table. It was 



190 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

getting late and Munich was still forty-four miles 
away, but no matter; my German was vindicated 
and an apology was due for that smile which 
Beamer had given me, but the apology was never 
made. For when at length a waiter brought the 
cheese it was no more like the delicious, creamy 
schmierkaese of American gardens than a thistle 
is like a lily — it was a little pyramid that looked as 
solid and as hard as a bullet. Beamer gave me an- 
other smile and said: " After the trouble this gen- 
tleman has taken we must eat this stuff, no matter 

how terrible it tastes. ' ' ( Mr. S understood no 

English, so Beamer was safe in speaking thus.) 

This was so obviously true that I made no reply, 
but began eating that bullet-like pyramid and 
made a desperate effort to look as if I liked it. It 
was a disagreeable task, and so slow a one that 
by the time enough of the pyramid had been eaten 
to satisfy the demands of politeness it was too late 
to go to Munich, and I asked the Herr Besitzer to 
tell us of a hotel with accommodations for auto- 
mobiles. 

"The Augsburg hotels are not equipped with 

garages,' ' returned Herr S . "But that does 

not matter. You must stay at my house. Your 
automobile may be run into my brewery stables." 

We protested against thus imposing upon a 
stranger, but the invitation was no mere lip affair. 
Herr S was in earnest, he listened to no re- 



The German Tour Begins 191 

fusal, and so it was that instead of going on to 
Munich we stopped that night in an old house on 
the Maximilianstrasse of Augsburg, adjoining a 
brewery and almost opposite the ancient mansion 
of the Fuggers. It was all one property, but the 
brewery and the proprietor's house were kept 
distinct. A sign "Privat Wolmung" was on the 

door opening into Herr S 's living quarters, 

and no one entered that door who had no personal 
business with the family. In the rear of the Pri- 
vat Wohnung, and connected with the brewery, 
was a "Bier Stube," which was crowded with a 
bridal party when we were there at midnight after 
leaving the garden. As we entered the Bier Stube 
the bride and groom and guests arose from their 
seats around a big table and said, "Abend, Herr 
Besitzer!" (Evening, Herr Owner!) 

That is the way everybody addressed Herr 

S , and the way, too, that he must have thought 

of himself, for the card he gave us read, "Herr 

v S , Brauerei Besitzer." It would seem 

odd for an American to have his visiting card 
read, "John Smith, Grocery Owner," and always 
to be addressed, "Mr. Grocery Owner." But that 
is the way we saw it done in Augsburg, and appar- 
ently it was the correct and the usual thing to do. 

Before going to bed tea was served in the Privat 
Wohnung' s dear little room called "Speise Saal" 
— old oak beams in the ceiling and ancient fres- 



192 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

coes on the wall. In Bavaria, and in a brewery at 
that, we were prepared for beer, but at Herr 

S 's table beer was conspicuous by its absence. 

Next morning in the Bier Stube we saw work- 
ingmen making their breakfast on rye bread and 
black beer, but so far as we saw them the Herr 
Brauerei Besitzer and his family did not indulge 

in Germany's national beverage. Herr S was 

a native of Austria ; his wife was a native of Augs- 
burg and on occasion wears the Suabian costume, 
the striking feature of which is its curious head- 
dress on a curved gold frame, with big black 
streamers of ribbon. These gold frames, with 
their pendants and flowing ribbons, called "Re~ 
gina Haube," are highly prized in Suabia and are 
handed down from generation to generation. Frau 

S 's Regine Haube had been in her family 

more than a hundred years. Beamer thought it so 
quaint and curious she put it on her head, with 

Frau S 's assent and assistance, and, posing 

as a Suabian Frau, I photographed her with our 
kodak. This done, and several snapshots being 
taken of our host and his family, Herr S es- 
corted us through his brewery and explained to us 
how the beer, as soon as brewed, is carried to the 
garden and there stored deep under the ground in 
cool caves. Such of his employees as are married 
live in their own homes, but the single men have 
rooms in the brewery, and over them Herr S 



The German Tour Begins 193 



&■ 



exercises a sort of parental surveillance — the man 
who goes out too often, or stays out too late, gets 
a reprimand, which he knows will mean trouble if 
it has to be repeated — rather a paternal system, 
but it seems to work in Augsburg. It exercises a 
restraining influence, which doubtless is a good 
thing for a man who has no wife to regulate him. 

The room in which we slept, over the brewery, 
was seven hundred years old, but it was immacu- 
lately clean and the beds, in spite of their enor- 
mous feather mattresses, were fairly comfortable. 
As we blew out our candle and lay down upon 
those feather beds we thought of the curious and 
unexpected places in which one is apt to land on a 
motor trip, especially if one has a yearning for 
schmierkaese. Of the adventures which befell us 
on our journey, that which happened at Augsburg 
was by no means the least interesting or the least 
enjoyable, as these lines would testify to Herr 

Brauerei Besitzer v S , were he only able 

to read a little English. However, Herr S 

knows we enjoyed our visit and appreciated his 
hospitality, even though he should never read 
these lines; for bad as my German may be — or 
even bad as Beamer thinks it is — it was good 
enough to enable me to tell him how much we en- 
joyed the glimpse into German life which his hos- 
pitality so unexpectedly afforded us. We spent 



194? Seeing Europe by Automobile 

the entire forenoon going about with Herr S , 

and when finally we started for Munich he and his 
family wished us good luck and extended us a cor- 
dial invitation to visit them again whenever we 
returned to Bavaria. 



CHAPTER XI 

Growth of German cities,— Munich, Nuremberg, Berlin and 
Frankfort.— Beer and Art. — Advance of Liberalism in Ger- 
many.— The Brunnen Madchen in Nuremberg.— Rothen- 
burg— In wiirzburg where the Wiirzburger does not flow. 
— Twenty miles through the King's Forest. 

T N the quarter of a century between my first and 
* my last visit to Munich the city more than 
doubled its population ; in 1885 it had two hundred 
and sixty-two thousand inhabitants; it has now 
(1910) five hundred and fifty thousand. In making 
this increase Munich is not unique; it is only in 
keeping with its sister cities in Germany. Hardly 
among the rapid-growing municipalities of our 
western states are there more notable instances of 
quick increase in population than are to be found 
in many of Germany's ancient towns. Frankfort- 
am-Main was a town of only ten thousand in 1387 ; 
four hundred and thirteen years later, in 1800, it 
had a population of forty thousand. Even in the 
following sixty-seven years it added only thirty- 
eight thousand to its population — increasing from 
forty thousand to seventy-eight thousand. But 
since 1867, particularly after the war of 1870, the 

195 



196 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

population of German cities increased with mush- 
room-like rapidity. Frankfort, which had been 
four hundred and eighty years growing from ten 
thousand to seventy-eight thousand, almost 
doubled its population in the eighteen years fol- 
lowing 1867, increasing from seventy-eight thou- 
sand in 1867 to one hundred and fifty-five in 1885, 
Since 1885 the figures have doubled again, the 
present population being three hundred and fifty 
thousand. 

Nuremberg, which had one hundred and sixteen 
thousand people on my first visit twenty-five years 
ago, now has three hundred and twenty-four thou- 
sand, an increase of two hundred and seventy per 
cent. Berlin, during the Napoleonic wars a small 
city of less than one hundred and fifty thousand, 
and at the close of the war of 1870 a city not much 
larger than St. Louis, now has two million one 
hundred thousand inhabitants. While the German 
capital has thus been growing by leaps and 
bounds, its rival in France has almost stood still. 
In 1881 Paris' population was two million two 
hundred and sixty-nine thousand; in 1905 it was 
two million seven hundred and sixty-three thou- 
sand, an increase of only four hundred and ninety- 
four thousand in twenty-four years — less than 
twenty- four per cent, as compared with Berlin's 
eighty-one per cent, increase during the same 
period, 



Through German Cities 197 

In the twenty years between 1885 and 1905 the 
German Empire's population (without its colo- 
nies) changed from forty-six million to sixty mil- 
lion — an increase of fourteen million, about 
thirty per cent. France's present population is 
thirty-nine million, an increase since 1881 of only 
one and a half million — a bare four per cent, in 
twenty-nine years. Query : If Germany increases 
thirty per cent, in two-thirds the time it takes 
France to increase only four per cent., how long 
will it be before France ceases to be a great power 
like its neighbor across the Khine? 

Germany's commercial and manufacturing 
growth has been as remarkable as has been the 
growth of its population. And this in spite of a 
system of militarism and taxes which would seem 
heavy enough to crush any nation, however vigor- 
ous or virile. Twenty-five years ago Nuremberg 
extended little if any beyond its deep moat and 
massive walls; now, for miles beyond the walls 
the country is built up with great factories, ware- 
houses and commercial establishments, and with 
the homes of their tens of thousands of employees. 

On my last visit to Munich the colossal statue 
of Bavaria was more than a mile out in the coun- 
try ; it is now in the city, for Munich has grown up 
to, and far beyond, the "Bavaria." The hill on 
which the statue stands, and the Doric colonnade 
by which it is half encircled, are all so large that 



198 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

the bronze figure does not seem huge. At first 
it is difficult to believe the statement that the 
statue's head can contain five persons and that the 
eyes are good-sized windows from which may be 
had a fine view of Munich. But the statement is 
true, as I found by climbing into the statue's head 
twenty-five years ago, and as Beamer found by 
climbing there in 1909. It is hot in that bronze 
head in August; hence, as I had already seen it, 
and was not as fond of climbing spiral stairs as I 
was in 1885, I did not repeat my visit to the top 
of the statue, but remained below, comfortably 
seated in the Get-There, in the shade of the trees 
which stand back of the Doric colonnade and the 
Hall of Fame. 

Although Munich has become much bigger since 
my first visit it has not changed in temperament 
or character; it is still Germany's foremost city 
for beer and art. Just why these two things, in 
themselves so antipathetic, should go together in 
Munich is not clear, but it is a fact that the Bava- 
rian capital is preeminent for both beer and art. 
Nowhere in the world is such good beer brewed or 
so much of it drunk, as in Munich, and nowhere in 
the world is art held in greater esteem or carried 
to greater heights. Almost at every turn there is 
either a brewery, an open square adorned with a 
noble statue, or a museum filled with the finest 
paintings by both ancient and modern masters. 



Through German Cities 199 

Eeally to see the art treasures of Munich would 
require weeks, not to say months ; we had not the 
time to make any such satisfactory study as that, 
but we did remain long enough to make brief visits 
to the principal galleries. In the Pinakothek I re- 
newed acquaintance with the two great paintings 
of Piloty, "Thusnelda in the Triumph of Ger- 
manicus ,, and "Seni Before the Corpse of Wal- 
lenstein. ,, And in the Maximilaneum we spent a 
few hours looking at certain pictures which had 
interested me on my first visit and which I well 
remembered in spite of the lapse of twenty-five 
years. 

Critics do not rank these pictures high, but to 
me they are more pleasing, and certainly more in- 
teresting, than the canvases of some of the Old 
Masters. For instance, the large painting, "The 
Fall of Man," in the vestibule of the Maximila- 
neum : it seems a real scene upon which you gaze. 
On Adam's face and in his eyes is a look of gloomy 
remorse. In Eve 's the look is of unutterable grief, 
unutterable despair, tears glisten on her beautiful 
lashes, the eyes are almost closed; in the jungle 
in the background is seen Satan with tail and 
cloven hoofs, sneaking stealthily away, looking 
back at Adam and Eve as he goes, on his face and 
in his eyes a fiendish look of gloating. The color- 
ing and perspective are so perfect, the flesh tints 
are so realistic, it is as if you are looking at living, 



200 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

breathing beings. You do not have this feeling — 
at least I do not have it— in looking upon the pic- 
tures of those thin, ugly, queer-formed women 
which Cranach and Holbein have handed down to 
us as their conceptions of Eve and Venus. Cranach 
must have been limited in his choice of models, 
or else his ideas of feminine grace and beauty 
must have been peculiar ; certainly, the lean, lanky 
figures he painted seem positively ugly compared 
with that exquisite Eve in the Maximilaneum. Yet 
Cranach has been famous for four hundred years, 
while Cabanel, who painted ' ' The Fall of Man, ' ' is 
little known in his own country, and outside of it 
is not known at all. 

Another painting in the Maximilaneum which 
interested me on my first visit and which I stopped 
to study again, was Schweiser's " Henry IV at 
Canossa." The barefoot emperor is standing in 
the snow, his cloak clasped tightly around him, in 
his face a look of dogged determination and sullen 
hate; soldiers near-by are jeering at him, while 
looking down upon him from a balcony above are 
two prelates, triumph in their eyes, sneers on their 
lips. It is not only a fine painting, it is a lesson 
in history. What wondrous changes Time has 
wrought ! What a contrast between then and now 
— between the year 1077, when an emperor had to 
stand three days in the snow, bareheaded and 
barefooted, to gain a Pope's pardon, and the year 



Through German Cities 201 

1911, when the Pope, shorn of the last vestige of 
temporal power, is a prisoner in his palace ; when 
not even the humblest private citizen, much less a 
king or emperor, acknowledges his authority in 
aught save purely spiritual matters ! As I looked 
at Schweiser's painting of Henry IV abasing him- 
self to win the Pope's pardon, I remarked that 
the Pope could not make an emperor do that now. 

"Nein, Gott sei dank! (No, God be praised!) 
The Pope can't do that now," said a custodian 
who happened to be standing near-by. And this 
in Catholic Bavaria, from a man who doubtless 
was himself a Eoman Catholic ! 

Everywhere in Germany women do work which 
is done only by men in America; they plow the 
fields, they pull carts yoked with dogs and oxen, 
they drive auto-taxicabs ; in Munich they stand in 
the streets and mind the switches of the trolley 
tracks. It goes without saying that they serve as 
barmaids, except in brewery restaurants, where 
there are no waiters ; there the customers wait on 
themselves. When we lunched at the Hofbrauerei 
there were at least a thousand people eating there. 
All had to wash their own stone mugs and then 
stand in line and wait their turn to get a liter of 
the foaming beer. 

Less than a liter (a trifle more than a quart) is 
not sold. One who would ask for a smaller quan- 
tity of the Bavarian nectar than a liter would be 



202 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

deemed a barbarian, unable to appreciate the gifts 
of the gods and unworthy the hospitality of a 
brewery. No one ever asks for a smaller mug; 
for that matter, so far as we could see, no one 
thought the liter mug too large. On the contrary, 
the majority of the people took their places in the 
beer line and drank half a dozen or so quarts of 
beer during the time they spent in the Hofbrau- 
haus. Just where they put such a quantity of fluid, 
or why they wished so to distend their stomachs 
and disease their kidneys, is not easy to say, but 
we saw them doing it every time we went to a 
Munich beer garden, which we did several times — 
the beer life of the Bavarian capital being unique, 
different from that anywhere else in Europe and 
well worth seeing. 

In some of the beer places with platforms or 
stages the vast crowd of drinkers joined in the 
chorus that is sung by the performers, and when 
the songs ended the girl singers went among the 
audience soliciting contributions. If the song or 
the singer is a favorite the contributions are gen- 
erous. The performers, who receive no salary, 
depend entirely upon the voluntary contributions ; 
consequently, they are ever alert to please, and not 
infrequently the music of the beer halls is really 
excellent. 

We went in the Get-There to the Starnberger- 
see, eighteen miles from Munich, and saw the 




- 



Through German Cities 203 

castle where King Louis II was a prisoner until 
lie drowned himself in the lake hard-by, in June, 
1886. When we asked a passer-by if this was 
where the king was drowned, the answer was : "It 
is where they say he was drowned, but in my opin- 
ion he wasn't drowned at all." 

The man refused to explain himself or discuss 
the matter. Afterward in conversation with other 
Bavarians similar mysterious hints were uttered 
regarding the poor, mad king, but they frankly 
admitted that they feared to talk about it. In spite 
of this timidity in discussing a topic that with us 
would be commented upon as freely as one would 
discuss the weather, it can not be denied that the 
last ten years have seen in Germany a great ad- 
vance of liberalism. When in Munich twenty-five 
years ago I heard of a student who was impris- 
oned because he remained sitting when the rest of 
a crowd of persons arose to drink to the health of 
the Kaiser. The student did not do anything; he 
made no disturbance, spoke no word; he simply 
did not rise to his feet and respond to the toast 
to the Kaiser. But in 1885 that was enough to 
land him in jail; it is not enough now. To-day 
Germans indulge in open criticism of the Kaiser. 
On the occasion of William IPs indiscreet inter- 
view in the London Telegraph the German press 
was outspoken in condemning the interview, and 
many of the papers plainly told him he should keep 



204 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

his mouth shut. Twenty-five years ago such criti- 
cism would have meant imprisonment in a fortress 
for those editors ; to-day, so far from imprisoning 
the editors, the Kaiser conceals his resentment 
and follows their advice. Since the Telegraph 
interview he has kept on his tongue a curb 
that has truly edified and pleased the German 
nation. 

At eight o'clock of the morning of August 18th 
the Get-There rolled down the broad and beautiful 
Ludwigstrasse, passed through the great Sieges 
Thor and soon was once again in the open country. 
Noon found us eighty miles from Munich, an aver- 
age of twenty miles an hour, including slow time 
through villages and a stop for benzine at Eich- 
stadt. For some distance after leaving Munich 
the country offered little of interest, but just after 
passing through Eichstadt the Get-There began to 
climb a steep, winding road and when the summit 
of the high hill was reached there was a superb 
view of the valley below, and of the town of Eich- 
stadt, with its ancient castle and massive walls. 
We lunched on the edge of a cliff looking down 
upon Eichstadt, and in spite of the fact that it was 
mid- August the air was so nipping and eager that 
we thoroughly enjoyed the hot chocolate with 
which we had filled two of our Thermos bottles. 
In America August is not a season to worry about 
hot drinks, but in Europe there is no telling when 



Through German Cities 205 

the weather is going to be cold, and even in mid- 
summer it is a good plan to keep at least one Ther- 
mos filled with hot coffee or hot chocolate. 

At three o'clock the Get-There entered the an- 
cient gates of Nuremberg, one hundred and fifteen 
miles from Munich, and stopped before the famous 
Bratwurst Gloecklein, that curious little place 
built on the side of a church and used to-day, as it 
has been used for the past five hundred years, as 
a restaurant and saloon. The beer served is dark, 
much darker than Munich beer — so much darker 
it is almost black — but drinkers say it is very fine ; 
as to the Bratwurst, we do not need to ask what 
the drinkers say about that. We can personally 
attest that it is excellent — at least, it so seemed to 
us that afternoon after our one-hundred-and-fif- 
teen-mile drive. The Bratwurst Gloecklein, which 
is not more than seven feet wide by forty feet long, 
has its oven at one end of the narrow room and 
the guests from their tables can watch the glowing 
coals and see the little bratwursts becoming crisp 
and brown as the fat fries out into the saucepan. 
To a hungry man the smell is good, and the place 
is comfortable, cosy and unique. In bygone cen- 
turies some famous men were " Stamm Gaste" 
(regular guests) here. A brass plate on the wall 
over one table recites the fact that Albert Diirer 
used to drink beer at that table from 1490 to 1510. 
Near the Diirer plate is a card on the wall con- 



206 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

taming these lines written by Carmen Sylva, the 
Queen of Koumania, when she visited the Brat- 
wurst Gloecklein a few years ago : 

"Ich las was all hier geschrieben stand, 
Und weil ich die Hernn nit finden kannt, 
So nab ich auf ihren Platze gesessen 
In Ihren Geiste mich satt gegessen! " 

("I have read all that is written here; and though I rj*ti 
not find the men themselves, I have seated myself in their 
old pla,ces and in their spirit have I feasted full.") 

As late as the time of Napoleon Nuremberg was 
a little town of less than twenty-five thousand peo- 
ple; nevertheless, even then it was of political 
importance. Its prosperity, considerable as far 
back as the twelfth century, reached great heights 
after the Emperor Charles IV issued in the year 
1356 his celebrated " Golden Bull" ordaining that 
the Diet of the empire should be held in Nurem- 
berg. Not long after this the imperial regalia were 
brought to Nuremberg, where they remained until 
removed to Vienna in 1796, nearly four hundred 
years later. Over the great door of the Frauen 
Kirche is a curious clock built by the Nuremberg- 
ers to commemorate Charles IV s Golden Bull. 
Every day at noon for the past four hundred years 
a door on one side of the clock dial has opened to 
let seven figures, almost life-sized, come forth and 
turn one by one and salute an eighth figure; this 
done, all eight figures disappear through another 



Through German Cities 207 

door on the other side of the dial. The seven 
figures represent the seven German Electors; the 
eighth figure represents Charles IV, whose favor 
made Nuremberg the political center of the em- 
pire. This clock looks down on the market-place, 
which on fine days is thronged with peasants sell- 
ing their fruits and vegetables to the housewives 
of Nuremberg. 

Half a block from the market flows the quiet, 
sleepy old Pegnitz river. At the point where the 
river is spanned by a massive stone structure 
called the " Museumsbruecke ' ' there is an ancient 
house with an enormously high gable roof, and a 
large, narrow balcony projecting from the side of 
the house out over the river. The house is so 
quaint, so picturesque, it merits any traveler 's at- 
tention; but to me it was especially interesting 
because I lived there once and on that balcony 
overhanging the Pegnitz, in July and August, 
1891, 1 wrote my " Afloat and Ashore on the Medi- 
terranean/ ' afterward published by the Scribners 
in New York, and by Samson, Low & Marston in 
London. 

During the summer that I was engaged in writ- 
ing that book I worked on that balcony every day 
until four o'clock, then took a tramp around the 
city walls to the hill of the old castle. There I 
would stop to look down upon medieval Nurem- 
berg, to see the massive eleventh century tower of 



208 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

the castle and to listen to a pretty, red-cheeked 
girl describe to tourists the deep well which in 
bygone ages furnished water to the castle when- 
ever it was besieged. During the two months that 
I made these daily walks with their daily pause 
near the deep well, an agreeable friendship was 
formed with the <( Brunnen Madchen," as I called 
her. 

And now as the Get-There climbed the steep 
street which I had so often climbed on foot, I 
wondered if the Brunnen Madchen would still be 
there, and if she would remember me. Presently 
we reached the castle court; the Get-There was 
left near the gate and we walked across the court 
to the little pavilion which shelters the deep well. 
As we entered a girl was holding a mirror over the 
well to throw the light on the water below, and she 
was saying in toneless, parrot-like English: "You 
see from the light on the glass it is very deep, three 
hundred and thirty feet deep. ' ' 

The setting was the same, the pavilion, the well, 
the descriptive words learned by rote like a parrot, 
the tourists with their red guidebooks — everything 
was precisely as I had so often seen it eighteen 
years ago. But that was not all, the Brunnen 
Madchen was the same — at least she seemed so; 
I saw the same eyes, same features, expression, 
hair, even the same rosy complexion which I used 
to see in 1891. Had time, so relentless with others, 



Through German Cities 209 

stood still for her? When the tourists paid their 
fees and left I spoke to the girl : 

"Entschuldigen Sie, Fraulein (excuse me, 
Miss), but are you Fraulein Elizabetta B V y 

She did not answer at once ; she seemed too sur- 
prised. She gave me an inquiring look, then said : 

"Nein, Herr, ich heisse Elizabetta H (No, 

sir, my name is Elizabeth H ). Elizabeth 

B was the maiden name of my mother.' ' 

"And your mother? Eighteen years ago I 
used to see her here. Is she still living ?" 

She was, in the caretaker's house hard-by in the 
courtyard of the castle. And presently I had in- 
troduced her to Beamer, and for an hour we lived 
over the events of the summer that was long ago 
swallowed up in the endless years of the past, but 
which neither of us had yet quite forgotten. 

I was less fortunate when I looked for another 
old friend in the court of the castle. In those sum- 
mer days of 1891 1 used often to rest in the shade 
of the venerable lime tree which was planted there 
by the Empress Kunigunde in the year 1010, ex- 
actly nine hundred years ago. On our last visit I 
learned that the old tree, bowed down by the 
weight of nearly nine hundred years, had died in 
1893, two years after I used to rest under its 
spreading boughs. 

As medieval as Nuremberg is it is less so than 
Bothenburg, which we reached after riding forty- 



210 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

eight miles over a fine road that passed through 
several deliciously cool and shady forests. On this 
journey the advantages of the automobile were 
emphasized, for although we did not leave Nurem- 
berg until eight o'clock we reached Rothenburg a 
little after nine, and had driven all over the town 
when we met some tourists in a 'bus coming from 
the railway station. These tourists were from our 
hotel in Nuremberg; they had left an hour before 
us, yet here they were reaching Eothenburg an 
hour after we had finished seeing the town. I do 
not mean to say that that German railway was 
so much slower than the Get-There, for in this 
instance there was a change of trains and a de- 
lay in making connections; but with an auto- 
mobile you come and go when you are ready: 
without the Get-There we would have reached 
Rothenburg at ten o'clock instead of nine, and we 
would have been obliged to wait for an evening 
train before we could continue our journey to 
Wiirzburg. As it was, we left the Get-There in 
front of the wonderful old Rathshaus of Rothen- 
burg while we rambled through the crooked streets 
and walked on top of the wall that encircles the 
city; then we went back to the Rathshaus and 
cranked the Get-There and without having to wait 
for any train we were off on our journey. In 
Rothenburg we got a lad of fourteen to guide us 
to the Burg Garden, the site of the Castle of 



Through German Cities 211 

Hohenstaufen — a hill from which we looked down 
into the deep Tauber valley, a vast, natural amphi- 
theater, with terrace after terrace of green vines. 
This lad showed ns where to find the steps that 
lead to the top of the city wall. He told us the 
reason the houses of Eothenburg have such high 
roofs is that in ancient times the law limited 
the number of stories which a house might have, 
but said nothing as to the roof; hence, while these 
old houses are low they sometimes have prodigi- 
ously high roofs. We saw some roofs that had six 
tiers of windows, indicating they had six separate 
stories. 

Another piece of information imparted to us by 
that fourteen-year-old lad made us regret that we 
had not come to Eothenburg in June instead of in 
August; had we come in June, he said, we would 
have seen the wonderful "Meisterdrank" festival, 
a celebration indulged in every year by the good 
people of Eothenburg to commemorate the feat of 
one of their town councillors in 1631. That grim 
old savage, Tilly, when he rode up to the Eaths- 
haus of Eothenburg two hundred and eighty years 
ago at the head of his victorious soldiers, ordered 
a batch of the town councillors to be hanged. 
"While the unlucky burghers were facing the scaf- 
fold the Burgomaster's daughter approached with 
a huge flagon of wine and passed it first to Tilly 
and then to his officers ; even after all of them had 



212 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

drank their fill the flagon remained but half empty, 
whereupon the Burgomaster's daughter remarked 
that a single one of her father's councillors was 
able to empty such a flagon at a single draught. 

"By heavens, if you speak truth," cried the 
grim old general, "I will pardon your father's 
councillors." And forthwith commanded that one 
of them prove the truth of that which the fair 
maid had uttered. 

Forth from the batch of condemned men stepped 
one of commanding height and large in girth. 
"Fill the flagon," he cried, "and / will empty it 
even as the maid hath said." 

The flagon was filled, filled to the brim, and the 
tall burgher raised it to his lips and kept it there 
until the very last drop was drained — whereupon 
Tilly, in recognition of the feat, and in perform- 
ance of his promise, pardoned the condemned city 
fathers. Every June Bothenburg re-enacts the 
scene. Dressed in the garb of the city fathers of the 
year 1631, men line up in front of the old Baths- 
haus as they did that day Tilly rode in at the head 
of his savage troopers, and every June one of 
these masqueraders empties a huge flagon of wine, 
and thereupon another masquerader, dressed as 
Tilly, pardons the hero of the "Meisterdrank" 
and his fellow-burghers; and then the ancient old 
town of Bothenburg gives itself up to merriment, 
as their ancestors did two hundred and eighty 



Through German Cities 213 

years ago! It is all very naive and quaint and 
characteristic of German sentiment— the way that 
lad described it — and we were sorry we were six 
weeks too late to witness so odd a celebration. 

Our youthful Rothenburg guide had never been 
in an automobile and asked permission to ride in 
the Get-There as far as Wiirzburg. From there, 
he said, he would return home by rail. The lad 
was so bright, we readily granted his request, and 
he was enjoying the ride up the Main valley 
among the vine-clad hills when, in an unlucky 
moment, we met a man driving toward us in a 
two-wheeled cart. On seeing our young guide the 
man made frantic motions to us to stop. His 
horse did not seem the least afraid, and we won- 
dered why the man was so excited. It turned out 
that he was our guide's father, and he fancied we 
were kidnapping the lad. Even when the real situ- 
ation was explained the father's doubts remained, 
and he insisted on his son getting out of the auto- 
mobile and going home with him in his cart. 

On the road up the valley of the Main we ran 
into a flock of sheep, and it was harder to pass 
those sheep than anything we had yet encountered. 
The silly beasts ambled lazily along in a dozen dif- 
ferent directions, wholly indifferent to the wail of 
our siren or the honk of our horn. Meanwhile, the 
shepherd looked quietly on, apparently not caring 
whether we got through his flock or not. In truth, 



214 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

we would not have been able to pick a way between 
the sheep had not the shepherd's dog, with more 
intelligence than his master, finally rounded the 
sheep up on one side of the road. The droves of 
cattle which we occasionally met offered no diffi- 
culty compared to the sheep; as for chickens, we 
had trouble with them every day. It is a singular 
thing, but it is a fact, that no matter on what side 
of the road a chicken may be, when it sees an auto- 
mobile coming it wants to go to the other side of 
the road. If there are chickens on both sides of 
the road they change places when they see an auto- 
mobile; those on the left cross to the right, and 
those on the right cross to the left. Naturally, 
under such circumstances even the most expert 
chauffeur sometimes kills one of the foolish fowls 
as they dart across the road in opposite directions. 

In several villages through which we passed 
after leaving Kothenburg we were made to pay a 
"Pflaster" toll — a pavement tax of twenty pfen- 
nige (about four cents). Noticing that the peasants 
in carts passed without paying, we demanded an 
explanation. " Sie sind Fremden" (You are for- 
eigners") was the unexpected reply. 

"Do only foreigners have to pay?" I asked. 

"Ja (Yes). The others live here. They do 
not have to pay the Pflaster toll." 

Whether this discrimination was lawful, or 
whether it was a petty graft, we did not trouble to 



Through German Cities 215 

inquire. The way to enjoy travel is to follow the 
line of least resistance and not make a fuss over 
trifles. 

The River Main is spanned at Wurzburg by an 
imposing stone bridge with two huge bronze lions 
guarding the entrance to the city. We crossed this 
bridge, passed by the lions and proceeded to search 
for a beer garden ; not that we cared for beer, but 
because we wanted the see the "Wiirzburger flow 
in Wurzburg." Everybody has heard the song, 
"Down, down, down where the Wiirzburger 
flows," and in all lands Wiirzburger beer is 
deemed the king of beers. Naturally, we supposed 
Wurzburg would be the beeriest of all the beer 
cities of Germany, but such was not the case. On 
the contrary, it was the one city where we actually 
had to get a guide to point out a beer garden. In 
Munich, if you toss a biscuit out of your window 
the chances are it will fall in a brewery, but in 
Wurzburg, its native city, Wiirzburger does not 
seem to flow half as freely as it does in the cities 
of foreign lands. We saw few gardens in the city, 
and those we did see were poorly attended. We 
stopped in one of these gardens long enough to 
write a German friend in St. Louis that the Wiirz- 
burger was flowing very slowly in Wurzburg; then 
we set forth for Frankfort-am-Main. 

After passing through the town of Markt Hei- 
dendenfeld the Get-There climbed a high hill from 



216 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

the summit of which we looked down on the top of 
a vast forest, the largest we had seen in Germany. 
The pine trees were so close together, it was like 
looking upon a great green carpet. Three-quar- 
ters of an hour later we had descended the other 
side of the hill and were entering that forest ; then 
for many miles the Get-There flew along over a 
magnificent road that was built right through the 
forest, the tall pine trees coming close to the road 
on each side. After a while we came to a gate 
stretched across the road. To the left was a gate- 
keeper's lodge, almost hidden by the trees. A 
woman came out of the lodge and opened the gate, 
and on we flew until several miles farther on we 
came to another gate. There another woman let 
us pass, and soon we were in the town of Aschaf- 
fenburg. 

That forest belongs to the King of Bavaria and 
the portion shut in between those two gates is a 
"Wild Thier Park." We were an hour passing 
between those two walls of pine trees, and that 
twenty miles or so of our journey lives in our 
memory as the most delightful part of our motor 
trip in Germany. From Aschaffenburg it was not 
far to Frankfort ; when we stopped in front of the 
Prinz Heinrich Hotel in that city our speedometer 
registered one hundred and sixty-seven miles from 
the morning's starting-point in Nuremberg. 



CHAPTER XII 

The Frankfort airship exposition.— We find a baron.— Lunch 
in a forest overlooking the Rhine. — Up the Moselle Valley. 
—A night on a haystack.— Aeroplane races at Rheims.— A 
French Democrat. 

A T Frankfort, as at Nancy, we found an expo- 
sition going on, but the Luftschiff Ausstel- 
lung (airship exposition) of the German city did 
not have the disturbing effect upon Frankfort's 
life that the Nancy exposition had upon that 
French city. This was partly because Frankfort 
was a larger and a busier place, but it was also 
because Germans take things more coolly than the 
French ; also because the Germans regulate every- 
thing. If an American builds a grandstand along 
the line of a parade he will charge for a seat just 
as much as he thinks people will be willing to pay; 
not so in Germany; there the police tell him how 
much may reasonably be demanded and he may 
ask that much and no more. There was no abnor- 
mal charge for rooms at the Frankfort hotel, as 
there was at the hotel in Nancy; and at the expo- 
sition itself grandstand seats in full view of the 

217 



218 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

balloons and airships cost only one mark (twenty- 
four cents). 

The morning of our visit we saw twelve big bal- 
loons go up in quick succession, followed immedi- 
ately by an enormous airship; the balloons and 
airship all quickly disappeared in the sky. The 
balloons we saw no more, but in an hour the airship 
reappeared, at first a small black spot in the 
heavens ; then it came closer and closer and pres- 
ently hovered right in front of the grandstand, and 
ropes were thrown down to men on the ground 
below and the airship was hauled down to its orig- 
inal starting-point — just as a steamer is warped 
to its pier by ropes thrown to longshoremen on 
the quay. To us it was a novel and an interesting 
sight, but the Frankfort newspapers did not seem 
to think so — at any rate, they said little about it. 
American newspapers devote columns to the spe- 
cial events of local expositions, but the Frankfort 
press did not give even a "stickful" to the twelve 
balloons and airships all combined. 

When Count Zeppelin's huge airship arrived 
on a visit from Lake Constance there was less said 
about it in the Frankfort papers than was said in 
the papers in western America, six thousand miles 
away. 

While we stood on the grandstand with up- 
turned heads, looking at the balloons and majestic 




w 

CO 

H 
5 



The Rhine Country 219 

airships sail away, I heard a pleasant voice to my 
left say in perfect English: 

' ' Your pardon, sir, but would you mind ceasing 
for a moment to stand on my foot?" 

In my interest in things celestial I had quite 
forgotten terrestrial affairs, but this polite re- 
quest recalled me to earth again, and, of course, I 
"ceased to stand' ' on the gentleman's foot, not 
only for the moment, but I ceased permanently and 
apologized in the bargain; whereupon we ex- 
changed cards and I learned that the man on whose 
foot I had been standing was a nobleman, the 

Baron von S , with a castle in Rothenburg, a 

hunting lodge in Elsass, a motor-car in Frankfort, 
and with other things besides that some noblemen 
do not have; for example, motor-cars and castles 
were certainly not owned by the nobleman whom 
we saw in Heidelberg. He was a Graf, but he 
worked in the telegraph office and looked like any 
other clerk around the place. Not so the Baron 

von S . He looked his part and was in truth 

a very polished and very agreeable gentleman. 
The meeting begun in this unconventional way 
ripened into a pleasant acquaintance. The baron 
insisted upon our dining with him at the exposi- 
tion that evening, and he accepted our invitation 
to dine with us the next day. The following morn- 
ing a bouquet of beautiful roses arrived at our 
hotel with the baron 's compliments ; and after our 



220 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

dinner, when I asked for the bill, the waiter in- 
formed me that it was paid — the Herr Baron had 
attended to that! To my protests the baron re- 
plied that we were strangers in Frankfort, conse- 
quently that it was not only his pleasure, but his 
duty to act as host. Experiences like this, whether 
with barons or plain democrats, are infrequent 
enough to be interesting. 

Baron von S drove with us about Frank- 
fort and pointed out some of its lions — the Ari- 
adreum with Dannecker's celebrated statue of 
Ariadne on the panther, the Palm Garden and the 
ancient Juden Gasse, which as late as 1806 was 
closed every evening with lock and key, and the 
Jews were required under heavy penalty to stay 
in their homes and not to enter any other part of 
the city. At No. 158 of this curious old street 
stands the original home of the Rothschild family; 
their offices are still near-by, in the house No. 146, 
on the corner of the Fahr Gasse, but the Roths- 
childs themselves no longer live in the Juden 
Gasse; they have "branched out" since those days. 
Some people calling themselves Christians, forget- 
ting Christ's teachings, particularly His command 
to love one another, still hate the Jews, and their 
hate still has power to hurt, as witness the Drey- 
fus affair; but the locks and keys of the Juden 
Gasse were thrown away one hundred and five 
years ago and from that once despised quarter has 



The Rhine Country 221 

sprung the richest and, financially, the most pow- 
erful family the world has ever known. 

When we left Frankfort Baron von S ac- 
companied us in the Get-There as far as Bingen, 
1 ' Fair Bingen on the Rhine. ' ' The distance, forty- 
two miles, was made in a little more than an hour. 
Just before reaching Bingen we stopped in a for- 
est on a hill overlooking the Ehine, and there on 
the grass under the trees we had a farewell lunch 
with our new friend ; he had helped plan the menu, 
and it was typically German as well as appetizing. 
There was Swiss cheese on rye bread and Frank- 
furters, which, by the aid of our spirit lamp, were 
quickly heated. In one Thermos bottle was hot 
coffee; in another was cold Moselle wine; in a 
third was clear water. In the basket were lots of 
other good things, and altogether it was a very 
jolly picnic party that lunched that day on the 
banks of the Khine, in full view of Germany's na- 
tional monument on the hill above Ruedesheim, 
across the river. 

Lunch over, the dishes washed with hot water 
drawn from the Get-There's radiator, the basket 
strapped in its place on the running board, we de- 
scended a long, steep road into Bingen and drove 

to the railway station, where Baron von S 

took a train back to Frankfort. As the cars pulled 
out of the station he leaned out of his window and 
waved to us a last Auf wiedersehen! On our 



222 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

whole trip we met no more agreeable gentleman 
than this chance acquaintance; we were sorry to 
part with him. 

Shortly after passing through Bingen the Get- 
There climbed a high hill, almost a mountain, then 
turned abruptly away from the Rhine and for 
miles spun along a superb road up the Moselle 
valley — a valley to our notion even more beautiful 
than that of the Rhine. There may not be so many 
old castles on the Moselle as on the Rhine, but 
there is more beauty, more stillness, more dense, 
solemn woods; then, too, the road winds higher 
up above the Moselle than the road along the 
Rhine runs above that river. And the view look- 
ing down on the Moselle and upon the castles 
which stand upon the summit of the rocks that jut 
abruptly out of its waters is finer than anything 
on the Rhine. 

What we saw on that ride from Bingen to Bern- 
castel convinced us that it is a mistake for travel- 
ers to neglect the Moselle valley. If you are at 
Bingen and have not time to take both trips you 
may well omit the Rhine and go up the Moselle, 
for there you will see just as beautiful scenery, 
and you will have it at least a little bit to yourself. 
In the season the Rhine valley is overrun by tour- 
ists, whereas, comparatively speaking, the Moselle 
valley is almost deserted. We tarried so long and 
so often to view the picturesque scenery, night fell 



The Rhine Country 223 

before our day's run was anywhere near ended, 
but we did not mind ; neither the Get-There nor we 
were the least bit tired. Our lamps showed the 
road and a full moon made the river and the hills 
and the castles and the dense forests seem more 
beautiful than ever. In the center of a stone 
bridge spanning the Moselle a man waved a lan- 
tern and when we stopped he collected eighty-five 
pfennige toll (about twenty-one cents). We asked 
this man the way to Treves. 

"Geradeaus" (straight ahead), was the reply. 

Half a minute later, at the end of the bridge, the 
road divided; one branch forked sharply to the 
left ; the other branch forked to the right — and yet 
that toll-gate man had told us to go " straight 
ahead !" I backed the Get-There all the way to 
the center of the bridge and the toll man came out 
to collect another eighty-five pfennige, but he got 
instead a sarcastic question: 

"When you say straight ahead/ ' I asked, "do 
you mean turn to the right or turn to the left?" 

"To the right, of course," replied the toll man. 
And he never cracked a smile or gave any other 
token that he saw the absurdity of this method of 
giving directions. It was ten o'clock at night be- 
fore the Get-There rolled into Treves and landed 
us at the Hotel Porta Nigra. When we awoke 
next morning we saw through the windows of our 
room the Porta Nigra, that great Roman structure 



224* Seeing Europe by Automobile 

which has stood here for sixteen hundred years, a 
huge and striking reminder of the vanished glory 
of a dead empire. The arch, ninety-three feet high 
and one hundred and fifteen feet long, is built of 
huge blocks of sandstone fastened together with 
copper braces instead of mortar; on the inside of 
the massive walls stone stairs lead to the top. We 
walked across the street before breakfast and 
climbed to the summit of that ancient arch; then 
after breakfast we drove about the quaint and in- 
teresting city of Treves, visited the ruins of its 
Eoman amphitheater and palace, then resumed our 
westward way, entering Luxemburg soon after 
leaving Treves. We passed out of the duchy into 
France at Langlaville, forty-five miles from the 
Hotel Porta Nigra. 

As we were not to return to Germany the cus- 
toms officer at Langlaville retained the second 
sheet of our triptyque and certified on the third 
sheet that the Get-There had made its final exit 
from the Kaiser's realms. Then he handed us the 
third sheet of a triptyque certifying that a certain 
Herr Arthur M. Tree, of Leamington, England, 
had left Germany with his Mercedes car, No. 3308, 
weighing 1,295 kilograms. We did not notice this 
at the time. In our haste to push on we did not 
observe the officer closely; we took without ques- 
tion the paper he returned to us and forwarded it 
to the treasurer of the Touring Club de France. 



The Rhine Country 225 

Several days later, at Rheims, we received a letter 
saying the club would be glad to return our Ger- 
man deposit when the Get-There had left Ger- 
many, but that the certificate of M. Tree was no 
proof of that fact; therefore M. Tree's certificate 
was returned to us. And then for the first time we 
became aware of the mistake of the customs offi- 
cer at Langlaville. It was annoying, and for a 
while it looked as if we were to lose the amount 
of our German deposit; but in the course of two 
or three weeks, and after a lot of correspondence, 
the Langlaville official straightened out his mis- 
take and sent us our own triptyque, which we in 
turn forwarded to Paris. A few days later we re- 
ceived a check to cover the amount of our German 
deposit. 

As we crossed the line from the Duchy of 
Luxemburg at Langlaville into France our 
speedometer dial registered twenty-five hundred 
and forty-six miles ; it had registered sixteen hun- 
dred and twenty miles on leaving France, conse- 
quently during our fifteen days in Germany the 
Get-There had traveled nine hundred and twenty- 
six miles. As a rule, we did not indulge in fast 
traveling; thirty-one miles was the greatest dis- 
tance we covered in any consecutive sixty minutes ; 
that, however, means a greater speed than it 
seems, for as it included several stops and slowing 
down in villages, it means that during some of 



226 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

those sixty minutes we were going not less than 
forty-five or fifty miles per hour. But this was 
exceptional; such speed was made only on a few 
occasions. One of those occasions was on this 
journey back to Eheims. As a rule, we made no 
special effort to reach any particular place at any 
particular time; but our sole object in returning 
to Rheims was to witness the great aviation event 
held there from August 22d to 29th. 

It was now the 25th; only four more days of 
the aviation event remained, hence fast motoring 
was necessary — likewise it was necessary to make 
a very long day's run. When night fell Eheims 
was still eighty miles away, nevertheless we deter- 
mined to keep on until we got there. After a 
while, however, we drew up on the roadside, got 
out of the Get-There and stretched ourselves on a 
pile of new-mown hay, meaning to relax for a few 
minutes, then resume the journey. But insomnia 
is not for motorists in whose faces a gale of fresh 
air has blown since early morn ; we fell fast asleep 
and did not awake till disturbed by the sound of 
chattering voices; then we found day was dawn- 
ing, and a batch of peasants was about us, won- 
dering if we were killed or only injured. They 
thought us the victims of an accident and were 
much astonished when we leaped to our feet none 
the worse for our night 's sleep on a bed of hay in 
the open fields, and bade them Bon jour and re- 



The Rhine Country 227 

sumed our flight to Elieims, wliere we arrived at 
eight o'clock of the morning of August 26th, in 
time to attend the day's events at Betheny plain. 

The "Grande Semaine d 'Aviation" did not end 
till the following Sunday, and what we saw during 
those four days well repaid us for the long and 
hurried flight from Germany. At moments there 
were hurtling through the air in front of the 
grandstand as many as a dozen aeroplanes, some 
at one altitude, some at another; while above the 
highest of them were huge airships circling as 
calmly and as majestically in the air as if they had 
been ships maneuvering on a summer's sea. 

To witness this extraordinary sight people were 
come from all parts of Europe, and even from 
other continents — from America and Australia. 
In the vehicle field more than a thousand automo- 
biles were lined up facing the judges' stand, while 
the grandstand held daily crowds of at least a 
hundred thousand people of all grades of society, 
from workingmen with their wives and children 
to dukes, princes, presidents, English cabinet min- 
isters and one reigning monarch. The Kaiser was 
not there — he never steps foot on French soil ; but 
that he is interested in aviation and would like 
to have seen the marvelous exploits at Rheims is 
apparent from the efforts he made to create a sim- 
ilar exhibition in Berlin. Count Zeppelin's mon- 
ster airship was at Berlin at the Kaiser's request; 



228 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

so was Wilbur Wright, and his flights over the 
Tempel Hof were witnessed by a million people. 
But the world was at Kheims ; so were the world 's 
most daring aviators, with the exception of the 
Wright brothers. And when the sun went down on 
Betheny plain on that last Sunday in August, 
when the swarm of aeroplanes which for hours 
had been whizzing over our heads at express-train 
speed came gently to rest, like a flock of gigantic 
birds taking roost for the night, not one of the 
hundred thousand spectators but felt that the 
event marked an epoch in human affairs. 

There will be other aviation weeks from now 
on; other cities will follow Eheims' example. But 
this was the first! For thousands of years prior 
to August, 1909, the man who wanted to fly has 
been regarded with contemptuous pity ; almost up 
to the first day of the Eheims aviation week learned 
scientists wrote profound essays which proved 
mathematically that man could not possibly fly. 
To all these "scientific" demonstrations a final 
and an eternal quietus was given by what we saw 
those last days of August on the plains of Betheny, 
four miles out of Eheims. 

There were no one-mark seats on the grandstand 
at Eheims. It cost a hundred francs to get a good 
seat there, and we would have longed for a little 
dose of German regulation had not the Get-There 
afforded us an inexpensive way out of the diffi- 



The Rhine Country 229 

culty. Adjacent to the grandstand was a field re- 
served for automobiles; the entrance fee for a 
chauffeur with his car was only ten francs. By 
coming early, and by a judicious gift to a guard, 
the Get-There was assigned a place in the very 
front ranks, only a few yards from the low picket 
fence that separated spectators from aviators. 
Every morning during the four days of our stay 
we took our place near that fence, much closer to 
the aeroplanes than the grandstand; and so 
from our seats in the Get-There we had a better 
view at a cost of ten francs than the grandstand 
people had at a cost of one hundred francs. 

There were more than a thousand automobiles 
in the field, and those that came late had to take 
places in the rear. We brought our lunch basket 
each day ; had we gone away to get dinner, or for 
any other purpose, our place in the front row 
would have been immediately preempted by some 
one else. For only one automobile was a place re- 
served, whether it remained or went away; that 
was the automobile of the mayor of Eheims. It 
stood in the front row next to us; frequently it 
went off, when sent for by the mayor, but when it 
returned its place was always waiting for it — al- 
ways except once. On that one occasion no sooner 
did the mayor's big Mercedes pull out of its place 
than a two-seated roadster rolled forward and 
occupied the vacant space. Then ensued a scene 



230 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

that would be inconceivable in Germany. A guard 
stepped to the side of the roadster, touched his cap 
and said politely: 

"Pardon, Monsieur, but this place is reserved." 

"It is not only reserved, it is occupied/ ' replied 
the driver of the car, calmly. He was a stout man 
with gray mustache, and keen, steel-blue eyes — 
evidently the automobile's owner. The guard was 
puzzled. 

"But, Monsieur," he said, "it is for M. le Maire 
that this place is reserved. No one else is per- 
mitted to rest here." 

Then the fireworks began. 

"For M. le Maire?" exclaimed the man with 
the gray mustache, his steely eyes flashing. * l Who 
is the mayor! And who am I? Is the mayor a 
god? Am I a worm that he should tramp upon 
me? Mon Dieu! This in France, in a republic, in 
a country which proclaims liberty and equality? 
Do you hear, Monsieur, equality?" 

It is possible to give only a faint idea of that 
man's manner; his eyes actually blazed; his arms, 
his shoulders, his hands, all took part in the dis- 
cussion. The guard, overwhelmed, beat a retreat 
■ — returning, however, with reinforcements in the 
person of another guard and of the chief. The 
latter spoke loftily and positively and seemed to 
expect that an authoritative air would settle the 
trouble. 



The Rhine Country 231 

" Pardon, Monsieur, but I inform you that this 
place is reserved !" So spoke the chief of guards. 
But the gray-mustached man answered : 

"You pardon me, Monsieur, but that can not be 
so." 

"Pardon, Monsieur, but I tell you it is so !" 

The chief and his two guards went away and 
presently returned with several gendarmes, but 
the only result of their united efforts was to bring 
the gray-mustached man to his feet: standing 
up on the seat of his automobile he made an im- 
passioned speech. He was a democrat; France 
was a republic ; the mayor, even though he were a 
king, was no better than a French citizen ; he, the 
speaker, had paid ten francs to enter that field and 
he was privileged to place his automobile in any 
spot that was vacant. The mayor had vacated his 
place, ergo when the mayor came back he must be 
content with a place in the rear! 

It is frightful to contemplate what would have 
happened had this man acted thus at the Frank- 
fort Airship Exposition; being in France, not in 
Germany, it was not frightful, it was only amus- 
ing. In America a money king or a political boss 
might succeed in such a stand, but under similar 
circumstances in America — say, at Sheepshead 
Bay or Brighton Beach — if an ordinary citizen re- 
fused to move on and sought to justify his refusal 
on abstract doctrines of democracy and equality — 



232 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

if that citizen escaped a clubbing I would miss my 
guess as to the temper of the average American 
policeman. 

In the end those French guards and gendarmes 
were discomfited. After nearly an hour of min- 
gled threats, commands and entreaties they re- 
tired, leaving the gray-mustached man in posses- 
sion of the favored spot which had been reserved 
for the mayor — a trivial incident, this, but one 
withal full of significance. The dread of foreign 
invasion has brought on France the heavy weight 
of conscription and a huge standing army — two 
things that do not wear well with democracy, two 
things which remove France from the list of real 
republics; yet, in spite of militarism, the lessons 
of Eousseau and the encyclopedists and the Kevo- 
lution have been ground so deep into the very bone 
and fiber of the French people, among them and in 
their country is a feeling of equality, an atmos- 
phere of freedom that is not found elsewhere in 
Europe except in Switzerland and England. 

Mr. William Bardell, the American consul at 
Rheims, was with us on the aviation field the day 
Glenn Curtiss won the international cup. In honor 
of his presence and of our countryman's great 
victory we flew two American flags above the Get- 
There's radiator; ours was the only one so deco- 
rated, and so far as we know the Get-There was 
the only American automobile on the grounds; of 



The Rhine Country 283 

the thousand and more machines that came every 
day none seemed of American make, but they rep- 
resented every variety of European car — seeing 
them was like seeing an automobile show in Paris. 

The return each night to Rheims was interest- 
ing; everybody left after dark at the same time, 
just after the aeroplane flights ended, consequently 
there was such a procession of automobiles as we 
had never seen before. Their thousands of gas 
lamps threw a white, vivid stream of light on the 
road, while the oil lamps twinkled like so many 
thousand stars. The road on which automobiles 
returned from Betheny plain to Rheims was re- 
served for that purpose exclusively. No vehicle 
was permitted to travel that road in the opposite 
direction; thus was confusion avoided, and in 
spite of the tremendous throng of automobiles 
there was not a single collision or accident during 
the entire eight days of the aeroplane and airship 
races. 

It is also noteworthy that not a single aviator 
was seriously injured; in the average automobile 
race of even a single day somebody is apt to be 
killed — even a horse-race wherein some jockey 
falls to the ground and breaks his neck is not ex- 
ceptional. In races through the air in machines 
weighing half a ton one would expect all sorts of 
fatalities, yet in the entire eight days at Rheims 
there was not one serious accident. Unfortu- 



234 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

nately the precedent set at Kheims has not been 
followed; since that great week of aviation there 
have been a number of fatal mishaps. M. Dela- 
grange, whose daring flights at Rheims aroused the 
wildest enthusiasm, fell from a prodigious height 
at Paris a few months afterward and was instantly 
killed. There have been other similar aeroplane 
tragedies, proving that flying is not the safe sport 
which the events at Rheims made some people be- 
lieve it to be. 



CHAPTER XIII 

Adventure of the dill pickles. — Brienne — Langres.— Our 
first puncture. — Besangon. — Into Switzerland. — Lausanne. — 
Around Lake Geneva. — Motor rules in Switzerland. — A night 
ride to Goeschenen. 

jOjN returning to our Rheims hotel Sunday night, 
^-^ August 29th, after the close of the last day 
of the Grande Semaine d 'Aviation, Beamer had an 
amusing experience: I had gone with the Get- 
There to the garage while she undertook to ar- 
range for our lunch basket to be filled, ready for an 
early start in the morning. All went well until she 
conceived the notion that dill pickles were neces- 
sary for the next day's menu; either her French 
failed her or the gargon had never heard of that 
particular variety of pickle. At any rate, he de- 
clared he could not comprehend. 

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Beamer. "N'y-a-t-il 
per sonne dans cet hotel qui parle Anglais?" (Is 
there no one in this hotel who speaks English?) 

"Mais oui, Madame/' 

' ' Then bring him here." 

The waiter vanished, returning presently with a 

235 



236 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

man in evening dress who asked in English in what 
way he could be of service. 

"You can serve me by getting me some dill 
pickles," said Beamer. 

"Dill pickles ?" repeated the man with an air of 
surprise. "What kind of a pickle is a dill?" 

It was Beamer 's turn to be surprised. 

"You mean to say you do not know what a dill 
pickle is?" she exclaimed. 

1 < No. What is a dill pickle ? ' ' 

"Why, it is — a — why, it's a dill pickle. That's 
what it is!" 

"Ah, to be sure," returned the man, courteously, 
and spoke something in French to the garcon. 
Then in English he said : "I am sorry to say that 
at this moment there are no dill pickles in the 
hotel. But they shall be sent for the first thing in 
the morning. ' ' 

"That will be time enough," said Beamer. "It 
is for luncheon to-morrow that they are wanted. 
Will you also please ask the cook to fill a Ther- 
mos bottle with hot chocolate?" 

"Certainly. Is there anything else I can do for 
you?" 

Beamer reflected, but could think of nothing 
more. 

"No," she said. "Your garcon has understood 
my other orders." 

"Very well. And now, Madame, would you not 



Into Switzerland 287 

like to look at our banquet room? It is artistically 
decorated. ' ' 

Her orders having been given and having noth- 
ing more to do until my return, the invitation was 
accepted. The man walked across the corridor to 
the door opening into the hotel banquet room, 
Beamer following; then the man threw open the 
door, disclosing to her astonished vision a party 
of thirty men, all in evening dress, around a big 
table, partaking of an elaborate dinner. When 
they saw the man and by whom he was accom- 
panied they raised their wine-glasses and cried: 
"Here's to the beautiful lady!" 

Of course, Beamer retreated instantly and in 
considerable confusion. 

"Why did you not tell me a banquet was going 
on?" she demanded. 

"Because I feared if I told you that you would 
not come," was the man's unexpected answer, and 
there was a twinkle in his eye. Beamer flashed 
him a quick glance, and the red came to her cheeks 
as she comprehended. 

' ' Oh, then you are not the hotel steward 1 ' ' 

"No; I am an English guest of this hotel. But 
that does not matter. I speak French, and I mean 
to get you those pickles!" 

1 ' Pickles ? ' ' repeated two of the guests who had 
come out of the banquet room to see what was the 



238 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

matter. ' ' Henry, what on earth do you want with 
pickles, and who is this lady?" 

Explanations were made and the two guests 
swore if Henry did not get those dill pickles that 
they themselves would act as a committee to pro- 
cure them. It was at this juncture that I returned 
from the garage and, as may be imagined, I was 
no little astonished to find my wife engaged in 
conversation with three strangers. 

"Gentlemen," said my wife, "permit me to in- 
troduce my husband!" 

The three men were at first too surprised to 
acknowledge the introduction. 

"Your husband?" they exclaimed. "You mar- 
ried — you, who seem like a miss in her teens?" 

"Do you think, sirs, a miss in her teens would be 
alone in a hotel lobby at ten o'clock at night?" 

"Pardon us, Madame, we did not know. We 
have heard that American girls do unconventional 
things." 

"Some unconventional things — yes; but not 
even an American matron asks a strange gentle- 
man for dill pickles. It is not complimentary, 
sir, but you know that I mistook you for the hotel 
steward." 

Thereupon the two men laughed and declared 
the joke was on their friend and introduced them- 
selves and urged us both to attend their banquet. 
This invitation, of course, was declined, and we 



Into Switzerland 239 

never saw the Englishmen again; but next morn- 
ing, when the gargon strapped the basket on the 
Get-There 's running board, the basket contained a 
bottle of excellent pickles, to the neck of which was 
tied a card bearing this line : 

"To the fair American whom I mistook for a young girl, 
from the Englishman whom she mistook for a steward." 

They were not dill pickles ; in France we never 
saw that particular kind of pickle, but they were 
good and when we lunched that day on the grass 
under a tree we ate a pickle and drank a toast to 
the unknown Englishman. 

Switzerland was now our objective point, and on 
the way thither we again passed through the field 
of Chalons. This time, however, on reaching the 
obelisk erected to Napoleon III, instead of turning 
sharply to the east, we continued straight south 
and after leaving Chalons-sur-Marne, a small city 
of twenty-eight thousand inhabitants, the Get- 
There sped along a road which for thirty miles 
was bordered on each side by a strip of velvety 
lawn ; the grass was green and closely clipped, and 
there were two rows of stately trees whose boughs 
almost met overhead. At one place this road was 
as straight as an arrow for a distance of five miles, 
not a fork or a curve. As far as the eye could see 
there was that highway, smooth as a billiard table, 
fringed on either side by those mile-long strips of 



240 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

green grass and covered overhead by the foliage 
of those two rows of stately trees — it was a lovely 
vista; we seemed to be spinning swiftly along in 
an endless tunnel of trees. 

At one point while ascending the beautiful val- 
ley of the Marne we passed within a few miles of 
Brienne, where, in the beginning of his life, Napo- 
leon studied the art of war and where toward the 
close of his career, in 1814, he fought a bloody bat- 
tle with the Prussians under Bluecher. In front 
of the Hotel de Ville in Brienne is a bronze statue 
of Napoleon at the age of sixteen — the only statue 
of him as a youth which is anywhere to be seen. 
Our route took us through Joinville within sight 
of the Chateau du Grand Jardin, the sixteenth- 
century home of the Guise family, and through 
Chaumont, where in 1814 the allied sovereigns met 
to sign a treaty reducing France to the territory 
that was hers in 1789, prior to the Revolution, 
prior to her expansion under Napoleon. 

From Chaumont we continued on up the valley 
of the Marne until we reached Langres. It was a 
stiff up-grade all the way, and the last part of the 
journey was up a veritable mountain, for Langres, 
situated on a hill sixteen hundred feet high, is 
reached only by a long and steep zigzag road from 
which as one ascends one may look down upon the 
Marne and its picturesque valley. To climb that 
zigzag road the Get-There had to fall into second 



Into Switzerland 241 

speed. It was slow work, and as we had covered 
one hundred and sixty-one miles since leaving 
Kheims we decided to end the day's run in that 
town on the mountain. 

The Get-There entered Langres through its cov- 
ered gate, and after threading a way through some 
very narrow and very crooked streets landed us at 
the Grand Hotel de 1 'Europe. Travelers are 
warned not to attach significance to the word 
" Grand" as applied to French hotels, because inns 
of even the humblest sort have a way of calling 
themselves ' 1 Grand Hotel. ' ' Our Langres hotel 
was in truth a modest inn, yet we felt in a way that 
it was entitled to the grandiloquent name it bore; 
for certainly, considering it was in a provincial 
town, perched on top of a lofty hill, the entertain- 
ment it provides is grand. Our room was grand ; 
it was twenty-five feet wide and thirty feet long; 
on the mantel was a big gilt mirror that reached 
all the way to the high ceiling. Rugs were spread 
over the polished floor, and on the bed were linen 
sheets with hand-embroidered initials. 

For this room, including free housing of the Get- 
There, we paid six francs; for three francs each 
we had an excellent dinner, consisting of soup, 
fish (delicious sauce), roast beef and potatoes, 
string beans, chicken (very tender), lettuce salad, 
cheese, cakes, grapes and pears, claret at discre- 
tion and coffee. I know of no small town in Amer- 



242 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

ica where such a room and such a dinner is to be 
had at any price, much less for the modest sum 
charged at Langres — two dollars and forty cents 
for room and dinner for two persons, including 
storage of automobile. 

In old times, not content to be perched on the 
peak of a sixteen-hundred-foot hill, Langres built 
a big wall around itself. On the site of that an- 
cient wall modern ramparts now stand, and a walk 
around those ramparts affords a superb view of 
the Eiver Marne, flowing peacefully amid green 
and yellow fields a thousand feet below. The lion 
of Langres is its twelfth-century cathedral; al- 
though it is in a provincial town and was built eight 
hundred years ago, it is a noble edifice with a 
choir whose great monolithic columns and paint- 
ings by Eubens and Corregio would not be out of 
place in the finest church in France. 

Continuing our journey south the next morning 
all went well until we were approaching Besancon, 
a hundred kilometers from Langres; then from 
one of the tires came that hissing sound which 
every motorist knows and dreads, and the next 
moment the Get-There was halted at one side of 
the road, and it was u up to me" to fix a puncture 
— a job that is never agreeable, but under the cir- 
cumstances we had little right to complain. Our 
dial registered two thousand eight hundred and 
sixteen miles, yet this was the first puncture; 



Into Switzerland 243 

moreover, the Get-There 's wheels were supplied 
with quick detachable tires and rings, so that the 
operation of removing the deflated tube, putting 
on a new one and inflating it ready to go, con- 
sumed barely twenty minutes. 

Parenthetically, let it be observed here that on 
the entire trip, ending at Naples after more than 
iive thousand miles, we had only four punctures, in- 
cluding this first one between Langres and Besan- 
qou. Of course, this was largely luck, but it was in 
part due to the fact that I equipped the Get-There 
with tires a size larger and heavier than ordinary. 
At the end of each day's run, before the Get-There 
was put away for the night, I made a habit of 
glancing at the tires and frequently found nails 
embedded in the rubber ; but the nails, which came 
from the wooden shoes of the peasants, were very 
short and did not penetrate to the inner tube, as 
they would have done had the tires been smaller or 
thinner or less able to support the weight of our 
automobile. One motorist we met told us he had 
at least one puncture every day, and that on one 
occasion he had seven in one day. That motorist 
saved money by buying under-sized tires, but it 
proved unwise economy. For every time he picked 
up a nail it meant delay and trouble; with extra 
large rims and tires those little nails would not 
have reached the inner tube and he could have 
done as we did, wait till the end of the day's run 



244 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

and then pick them out of the rubber in five 
minutes. 

Besangon, which we reached at eleven o'clock, is 
Victor Hugo's birthplace; his statue is in the pub- 
lic garden. The poet is seated in an armchair; 
around his shoulder is thrown a toga ; his breast is 
bare, likewise his feet. That sort of garb looks 
well on an old Roman, but somehow it seems incon- 
gruous in the case of a man who has recently lived 
and walked amongst us. 

Two thousand years ago when Caesar and Ario- 
vistus, King of the Suevi, fought each other in 
these parts, Besangon was the capital of the Se- 
quani; since then it has belonged to several dif- 
ferent nations. From 1648 to 1678 it belonged to 
Spain; it is now a French city of sixty thousand 
inhabitants, most of whom make clocks and 
watches. The sole reminder of Besangon's Eoman 
days is the Port de Mars, an arch erected by Mar- 
cus Aurelius eighteen centuries ago. The traveler 
who has seen that arch has seen the "lion" of the 
place. When Arthur Young rode into Besangon 
on his blind mare the year before the Revolution 
he found the town very little to his taste and wrote 
in his diary : 

"I do not like the air and the manners of the people here. 
I would rather see Besangon swallowed up by an earthquake 
before I would live in it." 




THE ENTRANCE TO BESANQON, VICTOR HUGO S BIRTH- 
PLACE, IS A CREVICE IN A HUGE ROCK 



Into Switzerland 245 

At the time of the English squire's visit mobs 
were overrunning the country roads and setting 
fire to the chateaux of the nobility. As a striking 
contrast to the present peaceful, prosperous con- 
dition of France, the following paragraph from 
Young's diary is interesting; it was written in 
Besangon a few weeks after the Bastile was 
stormed by the Paris mob : 

"The backwardness of France is beyond credibility in every- 
thing that pertains to intelligence. From Strasburg hither 
I have not been able to see a newspaper. When I asked for 
the Cabinet Literaire — none! The Gazette? At the coffee 
house. To four coffee houses), and at some no paper at all, 
not even the Mercure. At the Caf6 Militaire, the Courier, a 
fortnight old. Well-dressed people are now talking of the 
news of three weeks past, and plainly, by their discourse, 
know nothing of what is happening. The whole town of 
Besangon has not been able to afford me a sight of the Jour- 
nal de Paris, nor of any paper that gives an account of the 
States General. Yet Besangon is the capital of a province, 
large as half a dozen English counties, containing twenty-five 
thousand souls, with the post coming in but three times a 
week. . . . For what Besangon knows to the contrary, its 
deputies are in the Bastile, instead of the Bastile being razed. 
The mobs plunder, burn and destroy in complete ignorance. 
Many chateaux have been burned, others plundered, the sei- 
gneurs hunted down like wild beasts, their wives and daughters 
ravished, their papers and titles burned, and all their property 
destroyed." 

In this day of cables and telephones, with the 
very ends of the earth seeming almost at our el- 
bows, it is difficult to realize that a century ago 
places separated by only a few hundred miles 



246 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

were almost as strange to each other as though 
they had been on different planets. Napoleon was 
the first really great European traveler; every 
country from Gibraltar to Moscow received from 
him a visit, and upon each he left a lasting mark. 
Before he set the travel fashion men who jour- 
neyed a little distance were looked upon almost 
with awe; that was because they were disappear- 
ing into the unknown. For in those days nobody 
knew what was going on a hundred miles away. 
Nowadays, even in the middle of the ocean, the 
wireless keeps us in touch with the world, and awe 
is not felt for even the traveler to the North Pole. 

In 1789 Besangon, now reached from Paris in a 
few hours, was so remote from the capital, it knew 
nothing of the storming of the Bastile until sev- 
eral weeks after that momentous event had oc- 
curred. To realize what that means, suppose that 
a revolution occurs in Washington; that a mob 
controls the city and destroys the national prison 
— and that New York and Philadelphia hear noth- 
ing about it for three weeks ! The thing is incon- 
ceivable. 

At five o'clock in the afternoon of Tuesday, the 
last day of August, just as our dial registered two 
thousand nine hundred and eighty-four miles, the 
Get-There crossed the Swiss frontier at Bail- 
laignes, three kilometers east of a French village, 
Les Hopitaux-Neufs. The last hour in France was 






Into Switzerland 247 

amid magnificent scenery. The valley contracted 
until it became a narrow defile between mountains 
so precipitous, so high, their peaks were lost in the 
clouds; the road wound up and up and ever up, 
alongside a foaming torrent, until at length a 
height was attained which made us get our wraps 
and robes and forget that the month was August. 
The moment the Get-There crossed the imagi- 
nary line between France and Switzerland we 
were made aware of the fact by the marked change 
in the character of the road. Compared with 
American highways Swiss roads are excellent, but 
compared with the French they are poor. We felt 
the difference; also we missed the ever-present 
signboard which in France makes it unnecessary to 
ask for directions. After crossing that imaginary 
line at Baillaignes we saw few signs, and the few 
we did see were inaccurate and misleading. At 
one point where there were three equally well- 
traveled roads leading in different directions and 
no signpost, we waited ten minutes for some one to 
come along and tell us which of those three roads 
went to Lausanne. Finally a man in a cart passed 
and said, ' ' Take the middle road. ' ' We did so. A 
quarter of an hour later, meeting a man coming 
down the steep road up which the Get-There was 
climbing, we said : 
"Is this the way to Lausanne V 



248 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

The man looked at us in surprise. "It is the 
way from Lausanne," he answered. 

And this turned out to be true. The first man 
was either ignorant or malicious ; at any rate, he 
had told us to take a direction the exact opposite 
of that which we should have taken. It was annoy- 
ing, not only because of the delay, but because that 
mountain road was so narrow. It was flanked on 
both sides by such deep ravines that to turn the 
Get-There in it was dangerous, if not impossible. 
The man said that for miles ahead of us the road 
continued too narrow to turn, so we had to bach 
down that steep incline for a distance of nearly 
two miles. This delicate, not to say dangerous, 
maneuver occupied so much time that, instead of 
reaching Lausanne in time for dinner, as expected, 
we did not arrive there until ten o'clock at night. 

On my last visit to Lausanne, twenty-five years 
ago, I put up at the Hotel Gibbon, in the garden of 
which the English writer wrote his monumental 
history of Rome. The Hotel Gibbon is still one of 
Lausanne's leading hotels, but this time we went 
to the Hotel Eoyal, a new establishment nearer 
the water, looking out over Lake Geneva. On clear 
mornings we could see on the other side of the lake 
the town of Evian, whither Madame de Warrens 
went to throw herself at the feet of King Victor 
Amadee that time she abandoned her home and 
stole away from Lausanne in a boat loaded with 



Into Switzerland 249 

her husband's goods and chattels. From Evian 
Madame de Warrens went to Chambery, where 
Rousseau found her and made her famous. 

Over the front door of the house adjoining the 
garage where the Get-There stopped we saw a 
small tablet which recites the fact that Byron oc- 
cupied that house in 1816 and wrote there some of 
his immortal poetry. The shores of the Leman 
Lake are replete with such personal, historical 
associations, for on those shores have lived and 
wrought many famous men and women — Madame 
de Stael, Voltaire, Madame Recamier, Byron, 
Rousseau, Gibbon and a host of others. We made 
Lausanne our headquarters five days, and each 
morning of our stay we visited some town or house 
which possessed the double charm of a magnificent 
scenic setting and the human interest of historical 
associations. 

One morning we motored forty miles to Geneva, 
stopping on the way at Copet to visit the house 
where Madame de Stael lived and Madame Re- 
camier died. So beautiful was Madame Recamier, 
when she attended the fete given by the Directory 
to Napoleon on his return from Italy, she divided 
honors even with the future emperor ; men turned 
from him to gaze at her — a fact which Napoleon, 
who, in spite of his genius, was too little to be 
above jealousy, never forgave. Being banished by 
Napoleon, Madame Recamier went to Madame de 



250 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

StaePs home at Copet and there in that mansion 
which we visited that September morning she was 
madly loved by Prince August of Prussia. The 
prince urged her to divorce her husband and 
marry him. This she refused to do ; nevertheless, 
the prince remained devoted to her until his death 
forty years later. During those forty years an- 
other man also loved her devotedly — Chateau- 
briand, who, when his wife died in 1846, begged 
Madame Becamier to marry him. But both were 
then over seventy, and Madame Eecamier very sen- 
sibly declined. Chateaubriand wrote letters to her 
for forty years, until his death in 1849. 

At Ferney we saw Voltaire's home, and at 
Geneva we saw the statue of Eousseau; then we 
motored back to Lausanne. Next day we took the 
opposite direction to Chillon, of which Byron sang, 
and to Vevey, whose beauties Eousseau so elo- 
quently described in the "Nouvelle Heloise." In a 
little church on a height above Vevey are buried 
two men whose names recall an interesting page 
in English history — Ludlow and Broughton, the 
regicides. It was Broughton who read the death- 
warrant to Charles I ; an inscription in Latin over 
his tomb in the little church above Vevey says it 
was that act which caused him to be classed as a 
regicide and to die an exile from his native land. 
When Cromwell was gone and Charles II ascended 
the throne Ludlow and Broughton fled to Switzer- 




x 5 



Into Switzerland 251 

land and Charles demanded their extradition; but 
the Swiss government resolutely refused to give 
them up, and on their death they were buried in 
the Church of St. Martin, back of Vevey, where 
their bodies repose to this day. 

On Sunday morning, September 5th, the Get- 
There began the hundred-and-twenty-mile run 
from Lausanne to Lucerne, and it was uphill work 
from the very beginning. At the door of the Hotel 
Eoyal we started up a steep hill on the main street, 
leading up to upper Lausanne. An hour later we 
were on a height from which we looked back upon 
one of the loveliest sights in Switzerland. Spread 
below us was Lake Geneva, its shores dotted for 
many miles with vineyards and villas ; beyond the 
lake was the magnificent monarch of mountains — 
Mor)t Blanc, wrapped in his eternal mantle of 
snow! We were loth to leave so entrancing a 
scene, but the journey ahead of us, although not 
long in distance, was up and down mountains all 
the way, hence we dared not tarry too long ; after a 
quarter of an hour on the summit of that pass we 
descended its northern slope and Lake Leman van- 
ished from our view. 

Twenty-four miles from Lausanne we passed 
the little town of Eomont perched above a river 
on a hill; its castle was built in 910, just a thou- 
sand years ago. Sixteen miles beyond Romont the 
Get-There rolled onto a suspension bridge eight 



252 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

hundred feet long, spanning a profound gorge on 
the edge of which stands the town of Fribourg. 
We stopped in the center of the bridge, a hundred 
and sixty-eight feet above the foaming torrent in 
the bottom of the gorge ; then on to Berne, where 
we arrived at noon and remained long enough to 
lunch and buy gasoline and drive through the 
street of the queer little fountains to the state 
bear-pits. Just beyond the pits our road turned 
sharply to the right and zigzagged up a steep hill ; 
after that hill there was fairly level traveling, and 
the Get-There drew up in front of the Schweitzer- 
hof in Lucerne at three in the afternoon. 

As usual when in Lucerne we revisited Thor- 
waldsen's lion. Verily a masterpiece, but I have 
never seen this work without the reflection occur- 
ring to me that the soldiers it commemorates 
would have ended their lives peacefully in the 
bosoms of their families instead of having their 
throats cut in Paris, had they not left democracy 
at home in order to defend tyranny abroad. We 
spent what remained of the afternoon and all of 
Monday forenoon in renewing acquaintance with 
lovely Lucerne; then we started on our trip over 
the St. Gothard Pass. And straightway we 
learned that motoring in Switzerland is subject to 
unusual restrictions. The shortest and best road 
from Lucerne to the St. Gothard is that which 
closely follows the north shore of the lake, and 



Into Switzerland 253 

naturally that was the road we took. But we had 
not gone far when a policeman cried "Halt!" and 
demanded what we meant by motoring on that 
road? 

"Don't you know it is after one o'clock ?" he 
said severely. 

We were aware of that fact: what then? The 
relevancy of his remark was not apparent, but the 
policeman made it so. Until one p.m. it was lawful 
to motor along the lake shore. After one p.m. mo- 
toring on that road meant a fine and imprison- 
ment. 

' ' But what, then, are we to do T ' we said. * ' We 
want to go to the St. Gothard." 

"In that case you have no need to hurry," re- 
plied the policeman. "Even if you reach the St. 
Gothard to-day you will have to wait there till 
to-morrow, for no one is permitted to cross the 
pass except early in the morning." 

We turned back from that alluring road along 
Lake Lucerne, went north to Zug, rode around the 
shores of Lake Zug to Arth, back of the Eigi Kulm, 
and so on to Brunnen; there we were again on 
Lake Lucerne, at the beginning of the celebrated 
Axen Strasse. Years ago, oh my Tramp Trip, it 
took me several hours to walk on the Axen Strasse 
from Brunnen to Fluelen; the Get-There was al- 
most as long in making the same nine miles. The 
lake, hemmed in on every side by prodigious moun- 



254s Seeing Europe by Automobile 

tains, their snowy peaks towering into the very 
heavens, is so smiling, so friendly, so beautiful, it 
is impossible for even the most blase traveler to 
view it without emotion. To indulge in speed on 
such a road, amid such surroundings, would be 
sacrilege; the Get-There crept along and every 
little while stopped altogether. And the time 
passed so quickly that before we knew it the sun 
had sunk behind the mountains and we were in for 
a night journey. 

In some of the villages through which we passed 
were notices announcing that motorists who trav- 
eled faster than ten kilometers (six miles) an hour 
would be subject to an " amende' ' of three francs 
(sixty cents). These warnings were not responsible 
for our modest pace; the steep grade deserves 
credit for that. From Amsteg to Gurtnellen is 
only a trifle over a mile, but in that mile the road 
ascends twelve hundred feet, which, of course, 
means a grade too steep for speeding. 

From our seats in the Get-There on the right 
bank of the Eeuss we heard engines puffing and 
saw flames belching from their smokestacks on the 
opposite side of the narrow river as they pulled a 
long train up the mountain. From the lighted car- 
windows we saw the passengers leaning out to look 
at the Get-There. The Eeuss at that point was 
so narrow, and we were so close, the train passen- 
gers shouted to us, but they could not see us ; the 



Into Switzerland 255 

glare of our lamps fell on the road ahead and all 
back of the Get-There 's radiator was as black as 
night. 

It was nine o'clock before the ride up this wild 
gorge ended, and we found ourselves at supper 
before a cheerful fire in a quaint old German inn 
at Goeschenen. That morning in Lucerne I had 
set my pocket barometer at zero; at nine p.m. it 
registered two thousand three hundred and sev- 
enty-nine feet, a fairly accurate register, for the 
official difference between the elevation of Lucerne 
and Goeschenen is six hundred and seventy meters, 
or two thousand three hundred and sixty-six feet. 
The distance, via Zug and the road we had fol- 
lowed, was sixty-seven miles. In covering that 
distance and in climbing that height the Get-There 
consumed twenty liters of gasoline. 



CHAPTER XIV 

The "Curly" Pass.— A short cut that was very long.— The Get- 
There climbs the Simplon. — To Martigny and Geneva. — 
Chamonix. — The Grande Chartreuse. — Grenoble to Nice.— 
Sospello and the deserted town. 

T7* ARLY next morning we went to the custodian 
-■— ^ of the St. Gothard Pass and paid two francs 
to motor over the pass. Another American, who 
was there for a permit for his big six-cylinder car 
to cross the pass, looked condescendingly at the 
Get-There. 

"You don't expect to cross the St. Gothard in 
thatt" he said. 

We modestly replied that we did. 

"Well," continued the owner of the Big Six, 
"there is one consolation: when you find you can't 
do it, you can at least coast back down to Goe- 
schenen and railroad it through the tunnel." 

The event showed that our countryman's sym- 
pathy was sadly misplaced. True, the Get-There 
did not bound up that steep mountain like a deer, 
nor did it make any record for speed, but we did 
not mind that. Amid such sublime scenes speed 
was the last thing we wanted. We drove slowly, 

256 



Over the Alps 257 

pausing on the Devil's Bridge, also in Andermatt; 
then we commenced a zigzag climb to the summit 
of the pass, six thousand nine hundred and thirty- 
five feet above the sea and three thousand two hun- 
dred and ninety-five feet above our hotel in Goe- 
schenen. Just before reaching the summit we saw 
the American, him of the Big Six, and the fall 
which follows pride had now come to him. His 
motor would not work and he was waiting for 
horses to tow him to the divide. 

"If you can't make it," I said, as the Get-There 
drew alongside the Big Six, "you can, at any rate, 
coast back to Goeschenen and take a train through 
the tunnel. ' ' 

The American saw the point and apologized 
handsomely. 

"I had no idea you could do it in that little car," 
he said. ' ' But I see your motor is a peach. I take 
my hat off to it; I salute it!" 

In my turn, to show that the Get-There har- 
bored no resentment, I offered to give him a lift. 
The spot where the Big Six had broken down was 
within a hundred yards of the divide and the grade 
up that last hundred yards was not overly steep. 
Had it been farther or steeper maybe the Get- 
There could not have pulled the big fellow up ; as 
it was, it succeeded easily and the situation was a 
distinct triumph for our modest, low-priced car: 
had one of its agents appeared at that moment I 



258 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

think he could have made a sale to that stranded, 
disgusted American in just about a minute and 
a half. 

The descent of the St. Gothard was even slower 
than the ascent, for more caution was necessary in 
making short turns and in preventing the Get- 
There from gaining speed. Failure to negotiate 
the sharp zigzags was a thing to be avoided, as in 
places it was a couple of thousand feet from the 
edge of the road to the bottom of the adjacent 
canyon. Fortunately the Get-There 's brakes were 
as staunch and true as its motor, and the only ill 
result that followed the terrific tests to which they 
were put on this and on the other Swiss passes 
was that the brake linings and blocks burned and 
had to be replaced on arriving in Geneva. Had I 
thrown the motor into low gear and gone down the 
mountain on compression even this small repair — 
the only one on the entire trip — might not have 
been needed, and the Get-There would have fin- 
ished its European journey with a perfect score. 

The Italian side of the St. Gothard is even more 
magnificent than the gorge of the northern ap- 
proach; the road descends in steep zigzags blasted 
out of the face of a stupendous precipice. "While 
still several thousand feet above the valley you 
suddenly emerge from the defile onto a table rock 
under which a sheer half-mile below you is Airola, 
with tile roofs and frescoed walls that look more 



Over the Alps 259 

like the walls and roofs of the painted houses of a 
picture city on a theater stage than like real houses 
of stone and mortar. 

While we stood on that table rock looking down 
at Airola — so picturesque, so Italian, so different 
from German Goeschenen which we had left only 
a few hours before — we saw a puff of smoke 
emerge a thousand feet below us from what looked 
like a round rock. In a few moments the smoke 
was followed by what sounded like a peal of thun- 
der ; there was another puff of smoke, another peal 
of thunder, and presently our ears were deafened 
by the roar and rumble of those reverberating 
peals which crashed against the mile-high crags 
of that gorge and echoed back and forth, making 
the roar continuous, new shots being fired before 
the echoes of the old ones died away. That round- 
looking rock was the dome of a casement and the 
men in the fort were having artillery practice, 
greatly to our delight, for that cannonading, al- 
though mock, seemed as fierce as the real thing 
and was a fine climax to our glorious ride over the 
Alps. 

Beyond Airola the road stretched down the val- 
ley like a white band between two green walls, for 
the sides of the mountain were covered with grass 
and they gradually retreated from us until after a 
while, instead of our being in a narrow gorge, we 



260 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

found ourselves in a broad and beautiful valley 
through which we motored to Bellinzona and 
thence along the northern shore of Lake Maggiore 
to Locarno. We were bound for Domo d'Osola; 
thence we intended starting early in the morning 
across the Simplon. As the hour was late, instead 
of taking the main route via Pallanza, we made a 
cut-off which nearly proved our undoing; for 
while that cut-off was a success in the matter of 
scenery, as a road for automobiles it was a failure 
— it was not meant for them. Ours was probably 
the first motor that ever disturbed the solemn 
stillness of that wild canyon. 

Such a succession of twists and turns, of curves 
and curls, we had never seen before ; Beamer calls 
it to this day the ' ' Curly Pass. ' ' It was so narrow 
that when we met an ox cart we were delayed an 
hour; there was no room to pass and we had to 
bach for a quarter of a mile. On a road like the 
letter S, with a mountain rising sheer up in the 
air on your right and a canyon half a mile deep 
on your left, even to go forward is no easy mat- 
ter. To motor backward over such a road is posi- 
tively dangerous. I made Beamer wait on the 
roadside, so there might be some one to explain 
matters if the Get-There failed to turn quickly 
enough and plunged into the gorge ; then I backed 
the automobile around curves and up and down 



Over the Alps 261 

hill until a spot was reached wide enough to let 
the ox cart pass. 

This maneuver was both delicate and dangerous 
and took a long time to execute; manifestly, if 
many ox carts were encountered, this was going to 
be the longest short-cut ever heard of. But it was 
too late to take the main road ; where we then were 
it was impossible to turn around, nor did we come 
to a place wide enough to make a turn for some 
miles. Fortunately, no more ox carts were met, 
but after a while a new difficulty occurred — when 
we crossed a bridge over a narrow but profound 
gorge, a soldier halted us. It was the Italian fron- 
tier, and alas! the customs officer at the end of 
that bridge had never seen a triptyque and refused 
to let us pass. The duty on the Get-There was 
some six hundred lire (about one hundred and 
twenty dollars), and we did not have so much Ital- 
ian money. What, then, were we to do? There 
was not room enough to turn around and go back 
into Switzerland : it was either go forward or stay 
where we were. The customs officer was puzzled ; 
he could not permit an automobile to remain in 
that narrow mountain road, blocking it up, yet he 
did not like to let us enter Italy without paying 
the tariff. At length, he sent a soldier for a man 
who could speak English; the man, a contractor 
who had lived in Australia, was engaged hard-by 



262 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

in building a stone house for the customs officers. 
He spoke good English, and greeted us enthusi- 
astically. Although he know nothing of triptyques, 
after examining ours he assured the officer that it 
was all right — that he had seen hundreds of them, 
and that we were entitled to pass. 

"I know Englishman," he said to us in our own 
tongue. "Englishman never tell lie, so I stand by 
him and I tell lie for him. I tell because you are 
in one bad fix." 

Even with this man ready to lie for us the cus- 
toms officer was not convinced ; finally, however, he 
consented to send a soldier with us to the next 
town : if we were all right we could then proceed ; 
if we were all wrong the authorities in that town 
would deal with us as our crime deserved. So pres- 
ently a soldier in natty uniform, a plume in his 
hat and a rifle in his hand, mounted the Get- 
There 's running-board, and once more we started 
up that curly road along a sort of continuous let- 
ter S, with rugged crags towering above us on one 
hand and on the other hand a profound gorge with 
a cataract of water leaping and tumbling in its 
depths far below. 

After seven miles, just as night was falling, we 
came to a collection of a dozen or two houses built 
on the edge of the canyon and stopped in front of 
a stone house indicated by the soldier. It was a 



Over the Alps 263 

Dogana (customs house), and after referring to a 
book of instructions, the official in charged viseed 
our triptyque and permitted us to depart. There 
was no hotel in that hamlet, but seven kilometers 
distant was a little town called Ste. Maria. We 
stopped there till morning, not deeming it prudent 
to travel in the dark over a road so tortuous and 
narrow. It was a splendid route for a pedestrian, 
but no matter how often the future may favor us 
with automobile trips in Europe, one road we cer- 
tainly shall never motor over again is that cut-off 
between Locarno and Domo d'Ossola. 

Leaving Ste. Maria early next morning we 
reached Domo d'Ossola in half an hour. We 
stopped to replenish our supply of gasoline (at a 
cost of fifty cents a gallon), and then started across 
the Simplon on the same road over which I 
tramped twenty-five years ago. Since that time a 
great hole has been made in the mountain — the 
Simplon tunnel, completed in 1905 — but otherwise 
everything was precisely as it was a quarter of a 
century before; even a little inn, where on my 
Tramp I spent a night, was there unchanged, ex- 
cept that it had a different proprietor. As the 
Get-There halted in front of that inn the sight of 
it brought back memories of an incident that oc- 
curred there twenty-five years ago — an incident re- 
lated in my Tramp Trip. Garbed in tramp attire, 



264? Seeing Europe by Automobile 

a workman's blouse and hobnailed shoes, I was 
standing in front of that inn when the stage drove 
up from Brieg. 

"The only passengers were an Englishman and his daugh- 
ter. The Englishman remained sitting, but the young lady 
got out and entered the hotel to get a cup of coffee. She was 
the first English-speaking girl I had seen for some time; more- 
over, she was very pretty, and when on her return she expe- 
rienced a slight difficulty in climbing up the stage steps I 
sprang forward and assisted her. I forgot that I was a 'tramp,' 
a workingman — not a gentleman. 

" 'Thank you, my good man,' she said, in tolerable Italian, 
handing me a copper coin. Then to her father, in English: 
'I suppose one must give money if one is only looked at by 
these poor Italians.' 

"There was a genuine lout of a peasant lounging at the 
door, who, of course, did not understand a word of English. 
Nevertheless, I addressd him in my mother tongue, at the same 
time tossing him two coppers: 

" 'The signorina wishes you to drink her health, and you 
may also drink mine.' 

"The face of that young girl was a study. It turned pale, 
then red. I bowed, and walked off, leaving both father and 
daughter in a curious state of perplexity." 

As we sat there in front of the same inn reading 
that paragraph from my "Tramp Trip" (page 
104), the stage from Brieg drove up and again did 
a man and woman descend and enter the inn to get 
a cup of coffee. And they were English ! What a 
coincidence if they should be the couple of twenty- 
five years ago ! But, of course, they were not ; out- 
side the pages of fiction people do not meet again 



Over the Alps 265 

in that romantic way. In actual life it is as the 
poet says: 

"Like as a plank of driftwood, 

Tossed on the watery main, 
Another plank encounters, 

Meets, touches, parts again. 
So, tossed and drifting ever, 

On Life's unresting sea, 
Men meet and greet and sever, 

Parting eternally!" 

Beyond Domo d'Ossola the Get-There for ten 
miles sped up a narrow but beautiful valley, 
green with vineyards and fig trees; then near a 
town called Iselle the Italian frontier was crossed, 
and we were back again in Switzerland. A little 
farther on, at Gondo, a village in the bottom of a 
gloomy gorge, a Swiss customs official viseed our 
triptyque and charged us five francs for a permit 
to cross the Simplon. On the permit was stamped 
the hour and minute of our departure from Gondo, 
and we were told to occupy at least four and a half 
hours in crossing the pass. We might take as 
much more time as we wished, but if we arrived at 
Brieg before four o'clock (it was half -past eleven 
a.m. when we left Gondo) we would be subject to a 
heavy fine. We obeyed this injunction — not from 
fear of the fine, but because, as in the case of the 
St. Gothard, the scenery was altogether too mag- 
nificent to permit a sane man to hurry. 

The Italian approach to the Simplon is through 



266 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

one of the wildest gorges in the Alps; the stu- 
pendous walls of the canyon actually overhang the 
road, and at one point almost span the brawling 
stream which rushes through the depths of the 
defile. From a little distance you wonder how it 
is possible to get around or over that huge granite 
wall which reaches across the canyon. But on 
approaching you perceive that a tunnel has been 
pierced through that mass of rock ; you enter that 
tunnel and seven hundred and fifty feet farther 
on you emerge into the bottom of the gorge, whose 
precipitous walls rise on all sides to a height of 
several thousand feet. 

Half-way up the mountain we entered a cloud 
which remained with us until we had scaled the 
summit and began the descent of the northern side 
of the Simplon ; then we passed out of the cloud as 
one passes out of a room, and in an instant, where 
a moment before we had been unable to see a dozen 
yards, we now beheld a magnificent panorama — 
the great amphitheater of the Alps around and 
behind and above us, while below and in front of 
us stretched out for a hundred miles the beautiful 
valley of the Khone. The transition from seeing 
nothing at all except a thick mist, to seeing all of 
a sudden one of the finest views in the world, was 
startling; it was as if nature, coy at first and heav- 
ily veiled, had suddenly grown bold and with a 



Over the Alps 267 

single motion exposed her unrivaled beauties to 
our gaze ! 

It was only forty-nine and seven-tenths miles 
from Ste. Maria to Brieg; we had started very 
early in the morning — and yet it was after four 
o'clock before the Get-There halted in front of 
the Brieg post to surrender our Simplon permit — 
so often and so long had we tarried to enjoy the 
grandeur of the mountains. 

Thirty-two miles from Brieg down the Eli one 
valley on the peak of an isolated hill we saw Sion, 
an ancient town with several massive old castles ; 
we stopped in that hill town over night and next 
morning drove to Martigny, intending to go thence 
over the Tete Noire to Chamonix, but on reaching 
Martigny we found that automobiles were not al- 
lowed to cross the Tete Noire on their own power. 
A man offered to tow us over for forty francs, 
but one look at his horses showed that they were 
not strong enough to pull an automobile up so 
steep a mountain — a fact which the man frankly 
icknowledged. 

"What good, then, would your horses do us?" 
we asked. 

"Why, it's like this," answered the man; "when 
we get to the steep places you can turn on your 
power. The police won't complain as long as 
horses are nominally towing you." 

We found this was a common practice, but we 



208 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

did not submit to such silly graft; while it was 
longer to go via Geneva, that route lay along Lake 
Leman's beautiful southern shore, so we refused 
to pay forty francs to be towed (nominally) over 
the Tete Noire. A few minutes after leaving Mar- 
tigny the Get-There passed through St. Maurice 
and from that town all the way to Geneva, a dis- 
tance of fifty-five miles, our route lay close by the 
lake. Just before entering Evian, the lake town 
where Madame de Warrens threw herself at King 
Victor Amadee's feet and was by him sent to 
Chambery, there later to meet Eousseau, we 
lunched under a tree on the edge of a bluff over- 
hanging the water. On the opposite side of the 
lake lay Lausanne ; with our fieldglasses we could 
see the Hotel Royal, which we had left the Sunday 
before on this trip through Switzerland. 

In Geneva, while we waited for the Get-There 's 
brakes to be relined, the Hotel de la Poste gave us 
excellent accommodations at reasonable prices. 
Our room, comfortable and clean, cost a dollar and 
twenty cents ; a good dinner with wine was served 
for seventy cents. 

The road from Geneva to Chamonix was so full 
of ruts and bumps that we did not make the entire 
run to Chamonix in one day ; we went only as far 
as Salanches the afternoon we left Geneva, and 
there spent the night in an old inn where Byron 
stopped on August 29th, 1816, when he and his 



Over the Alps 269 

friend Hobhouse were traveling in a carriage over 
the road which the Get-There was now traversing. 
A few weeks before Byron's stay at that inn, 
Shelley was there; under Shelley's autograph in 
the hotel register some one wrote in Greek: 

"Atheist and Philosopher !" 

Byron, who understood Greek perfectly, indig- 
nant at what he deemed an affront to his brother 
poet, erased with his penknife the offensive words, 
declaring that it was scandalous to attach epithets 
to a man's name on a hotel register. 

On leaving Salanches next morning twenty miles 
of motoring up a valley that grew narrower and 
narrower, until finally it became a mere defile, 
brought us to Chamonix and we paid sixteen 
francs for two tickets up the mountain railway 
to the Montavert. It was the first time we had 
been in a railway train since landing at Havre. 
From the Montavert a guide conducted us across 
the Mer de Glace and by the Mauvais Pas to Le 
Chapeau, whence we returned to Chamonix on 
foot. We spent two days in exploring Chamonix's 
nearer beauties, then we returned to Geneva and 
motored to Les Charmettes ; that trip has been de- 
scribed in a previous chapter. 

On finishing our day with Rousseau and Madame 
de Warrens we returned to Chambery and next 
morning on the road to Les Eschelles we saw at 
the entrance of a tunnel a sign warning automo- 



270 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

bilists to light their lamps. It was broad daylight 
and the tunnel was perfectly straight; we could 
see clear through it — evidently a case of French 
over-caution. So we did not light our lamps. But 
presently, when we had gone in a little way, we 
wished we had heeded that sign's admonition. We 
saw a cart as it entered the tunnel's farther end, 
we heard it approaching, but after it was fairly in 
the tunnel we could see it no longer. It was com- 
jDletely swallowed up in inky darkness. Beamer 
sounded the siren, producing in that long cavern 
the most unearthly noise, to give warning of our 
position, while I hurriedly climbed down from my 
seat and lighted the Get-There 's lamps. 

A few miles beyond Les Eschelles we passed 
Saint Laurent and began a two-thousand-foot 
climb up a road hewn out of the face of a narrow 
canyon; this road led to the now deserted monas- 
tery of the Grande Chartreuse. Every bit of the 
climb was up an unusually steep grade, but the last 
hundred yards of ascent were so rapid, there was 
a sign warning motorists to leave their cars below. 
The Get-There had always proved so worthy of its 
name, we paid no attention to that sign; we kept 
right on. And then two minutes later our motor 
"went dead," and we would have rolled backward 
down the mountain had not the new brakes worked 
so well. 

Had our trusty automobile failed us at last? 



Over the Alps 271 

Had it found a road too steep for it to climb % Was 
this, in truth, its Waterloo! We were loth to be- 
lieve it; and it gave us a pleasure which only a 
motorist who loves his car can understand to 
learn that there was nothing at all the matter with 
tho motor. Owing to the excessively steep grade 
our machine was tilting backward, like a horse 
standing on its hind legs, and the gasoline had 
ceased to flow forward to the carburettor ; the mo- 
ment our emergency tank of gasoline was emptied 
into the Get-There 's tank the trouble ended. A 
single turn of the crank started the motor, and in 
another moment the gallant Get-There had scaled 
that difficult crest and landed us at the very 
threshold of the monastery door. 

It was a gloomy place into which that door 
opened, empty now, but until recently a place that 
was, and for eight hundred years had been, the 
living tomb of generation after generation of 
pious men. Not satisfied with the isolation of this 
monastery at the head of a remote and uninhabited 
gorge, the Carthusian monks sought individual 
isolation. The interior of their great building 
is honeycombed with so-called cells, each con- 
sisting of a vestibule, two small rooms and a patch 
of garden ten yards square. Here the monks, each 
locked up in his cell alone, prayed and worked 
and tortured themselves hoping, as Byron said, to 
merit heaven by making earth a hell! Food and 



272 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

water were pushed into the ceils through little 
trap-doors, by lay-brothers whose shoes had felt 
soles so as to make no noise as they passed through 
the corridors — for the stillness as well as the soli- 
tude of the monks inside the cells had to be pre- 
served. 

As we stood inside one of those apartments and 
observed its cramped, cheerless surroundings, its 
small wooden bed, the one poor little stool and the 
stone floor, worn by the bare feet of generations 
of self-immured prisoners, the knowledge that 
during nearly a thousand years men had volun- 
tarily chosen to live their lives in these gloomy 
cells made us reflect upon what a wonderful thing 
is the human brain, and upon the curious phan- 
tasies which sometimes seize and obsess it. 

St. Bruno, the founder of the Carthusian order, 
first went to Molesmes, near Langres, but as that 
was not lonesome enough for him, in the year 1084 
he came to St. Laurent du Pont and, looking about 
for a desert, he finally discovered this spot. In 
those days the gorge was well-nigh impassable. 
There was no road up it, nor was a road built until 
the sixteenth century ; nevertheless, men were not 
lacking to scramble up that gorge and bury them- 
selves in solitary cells. So finally St. Bruno 
thought the place no longer lonely enough, and he 
retired to a remote corner of Calabria, in south 



Over the Alps 273 

Italy, where lie founded a second monastery. He 
died there in 1101. 

The celebrated liqueur which has made the name 
" Grande Chartreuse' ' known all over the world 
was — and still is — distilled in a building in the 
lower part of the gorge a mile below the monas- 
tery. Shakespeare says there is nothing in a 
name, but the name " Grande Chartreuse' ' was 
worth three million francs to the Carthusian 
monks; that sum, after their expulsion from 
France in April, 1903, was paid to them by a syn- 
dicate for the trade-mark and for the secret of 
distilling their liqueur. The syndicate makes an- 
nually seven hundred thousand bottles of Grande 
Chartreuse, which it sells for one million and fifty 
thousand dollars. A custodian conducted us 
through the distillery and showed us the almost 
fifty-seven varieties of herbs and plants from 
which the liqueur is distilled. We accepted the 
sample bottles of yellow and green Chartreuse 
which the custodian offered us as souvenirs to take 
back to America, but we did not venture to sample 
the drink on the premises. For Chartreuse, while 
indeed a delicious liqueur, is pungent and heady 
and not the best thing to drink just before one 
drives an automobile down a precipitous mountain 
road. 

The visit up the gorge to the Grande Chartreuse 
occupied several hours. It was two o'clock in the 



274 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

afternoon before we came down from the moun- 
tain and started for Grenoble; arrived there, we 
stopped only long enough to buy two studded 
Michelin tires for our rear wheels, then we pushed 
on as far as Mono stir de Clermont, where we 
passed the first really uncomfortable night of our 
trip. The village was mean and dirty looking, and 
the inn was in keeping with its surroundings ; but 
we had no choice. South of Monestir there was 
not a single good town for a hundred miles. 

The run from Grenoble to Nice was one of the 
surprises of our trip. The distance is two hun- 
dred and fifteen miles, and for a good part of the 
way the country is as wild and desolate as the 
mesas of Arizona. On that run we had for the 
first time in Europe the novel experience of riding 
for hours at a time without passing through a 
town, or even seeing a farmhouse; only once or 
twice did we meet other travelers. For many 
miles the country was bleak and barren — no trees 
on the mountain slopes, no vines, no vegetation in 
the valleys; yet amid all this desolation the road 
was as smooth and well kept as the drives in 
Central Park. 

One hundred and twenty miles from Grenoble 
the Get-There rolled into Digne and stopped at a 
garage for gasoline, but as the price demanded 
was fifty centimes per liter (about fifty cents a 
gallon) we concluded we would look farther before 




g w 

o 
« 
H 

H 
H 
6 



Over the Alps 275 

buying. We wanted to drive through the quaint 
old town, anyway; so to the garage-keeper's dis- 
gust we threw in the clutch and started off. As 
we started a man jumped on the Get-There 's run- 
ning board : 

"I heard, Monsieur,' ' he said. "It is men like 
that who give France the name of being extortion^ 
ate. If Monsieur will permit I will show where 
essence is sold at a reasonable figure.' ' 

Of course, Monsieur permitted, and a few min> 
utes later the Get-There halted in front of a gro- 
cery and supply store — the Epicerie Marseilles — . 
where we bought fifty liters of gasoline for fifteen 
and a half francs. At the garage the same quan- 
tity would have cost twenty-five francs, so that our 
saving in this one instance was a dollar and ninety 
cents. Europe can not be seen on fifty cents a day 
in an automobile, but the cost of motoring may be 
materially reduced by letting cha?afYeurs alone and 
by buying tires and other supplies at ordinary 
stores instead of at garages. 

On March 4th, 1815, Napoleon, who had left Elba 
five days before, arrived in Digne. The splendid 
road to Grenoble over which we had just traveled 
was not then in existence, so on leaving Digne Na- 
poleon turned a little to the east, went thirty miles 
to Gap and made his way thence by way of Bour- 
goin to Grenoble. It was just before reaching 
Grenoble over the road we traversed as far as 



276 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Monestir that, alone, with only a riding whip in 
his hand, Napoleon approached the serried ranks 
of the army sent to capture him. The royalist 
officers gave the order: "Fire!" 

But the officers' voices were the only sounds that 
broke the solemn stillness. The soldiers stood 
silent as death. Napoleon, disappointed — he had 
expected a cheer — stepped closer still and opened 
that gray overcoat so well known to every soldier 
in France. Baring his breast, he said: 

* i What, my children, do you not know me 1 It is 
your emperor. If there be one among you who 
would kill him, he can do it. Here lam!" 

Among those thousands, had there been only one 
to discharge his musket the end would have come 
then instead of a hundred days later at Waterloo, 
and the Bourbon king would have heaped honors 
and riches upon the man who fired the shot. But 
not a soldier in the whole army was willing to do 
it. When they saw that cocked hat, when they 
looked on that old gray coat, when they heard that 
voice which had called them to victory upon a hun- 
dred battlefields, they rushed forward, they fell 
on their knees, they nearly smothered Napoleon 
with embraces and kisses! A year or two later 
when Metternich was deprecating Napoleon's 
genius in a circle at Vienna, where, all being his 
enemies, Metternich supposed they would natural- 
ly speak ill of him, he appealed to John William 



Over the Alps 277 

Ward if Bonaparte's genius had not been greatly 
overrated. 

"Sir," replied Ward, "Napoleon has rendered 
past glory doubtful and future fame impossible !" 

Grandiloquent praise, but who can say it was 
undeserved by a man who, merely by baring his 
breast and making a twenty-word speech, could 
capture an army and march without further oppo- 
sition to the throne of a great nation? 

Leaving Digne and its associations with Napo- 
leon during the week after his return from Elba, 
we entered a wild, rugged canyon. The road, how- 
ever, continued as smooth and as firm as if it were 
in a city park. Fifty miles from Digne we emerged 
from that wild canyon through the gap at its south 
end and halted outside the gates of Entrevaux, a 
curious old town on the Eiver Var; a narrow 
branch of the river half encircles the town: the 
sole entrance is through a gate and across a stone 
bridge which spans this arm of the Var. Neither 
the gate nor the bridge is wide enough for an auto- 
mobile, so we explored on foot Entrevaux's laby- 
rinth of narrow streets, then we recrossed the 
bridge and resumed the journey to Nice ; as it was 
downhill all the way we made excellent time and 
just at dusk, after a run of two hundred and fifteen 
miles, the longest distance covered in any one day 
of the entire trip, the Get-There rolled into the 
beautiful city of Nice. 



278 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

This ride through that wild canyon between 
Digne and Nice we reckon as one of the most in- 
teresting in France; second only to it were our 
excursions out of Nice to Sospello, to Mentone over 
the upper Corniche, and to Monte Carlo over the 
road along the Mediterranean. The prodigious 
mountains which rise close to France's southern 
coast are pierced by innumerable ravines which 
afford opportunities for glorious outings. Turn- 
ing at random into one of these ravines, the Get- 
There rolled up a steep zigzag road until our 
barometer indicated an elevation of two thousand 
one hundred feet. The village, which we had seen 
through fleldglasses from the valley and which 
had prompted us to turn into this picturesque 
canyon was still far above us, but it was not pos- 
sible to go farther in an automobile, so we left the 
Get-There on the roadside with brakes tightly set 
and wheels blocked by rocks. Then we scrambled 
up on foot to the top and, arrived at the summit, 
we were no little surprised to find that not a single 
human being was in the town. Why people should 
have built the town on such a difficult peak was a 
mystery, but having committed that folly we did 
not understand why the place should be abandoned 
just as aeroplanes and airships were being per- 
fected ; with an aeroplane one might not mind liv- 
ing in a house on top of a crag three thousand feet 
above the sea. 




4 X 



Over the Alps 279 

We rambled about the deserted streets and into 
the empty houses, took some pictures, enjoyed the 
grand panorama spread thousands of feet below 
us — Nice and Monte Carlo with their lovely villas 
and gardens and the blue waters of the Mediter- 
ranean dotted with the white sails of yachts and 
fisher-boats; then we scrambled down the rocks 
to where the Get-There was waiting, and motored 
back to Nice, where we learned that the place we 
had visited was called Castillon, that its official 
height above the sea was two thousand five hun- 
dred and thirty feet and that its inhabitants had 
moved away in a body in the year 1887. 



CHAPTER XV 

An excursion to the smallest republic in the world.— On mule- 
back through Andorra. — One hundred miles in a "Torture" 
wagon. — We step back into the time of Charlemagne. 

IN the southwest corner of Europe is a very 
*- curious and very ancient little republic that 
is seldom visited by travelers, not because it is un- 
worthy of a visit, but because it is unknown and 
off the beaten track, and troublesome to get at. 
The name of this place is Andorra ; with the pos- 
sible exception of San Marino, it is the world's 
oldest as well as smallest republic. We had 
planned to visit this curious place, but our time 
was now too limited to reach it by motor, so we 
stored our faithful Get-There in a garage at Nice, 
took a train to Toulouse, slept there over night and 
next morning took another railroad ride, this time 
to Ax, a French city seventy-seven miles from Tou- 
louse and two thousand feet higher up among the 
foothills of the Pyrenees. 

Ax was a fashionable bathing resort as long ago 
as when Julius Caesar was dividing "All Gaul into 
three parts" — to the great discomfort of countless 
generations of schoolboys who have struggled with 

280 



The Smallest Republic 281 

Caesar's Commentaries ever since. Ax is still a 
watering resort, though not now a place of fashion 
as in the time of the Romans. From Ax a military 
road runs to the Andorran frontier, and over this 
road we traveled in a cart drawn by a donkey; it 
was a sad change from the Get-There, but not 
many hours later, when astride a couple of bony 
mules toiling up a tremendously steep and rocky 
path, we looked back upon that cart and longed for 
it as though, in the matter of comfort, it were a 
veritable Pullman sleeper. 

Shortly after leaving Ax the valley of the Ariege 
River contracts into a gorge which, wooded at first, 
soon becomes bleak and bare, a vast solitude of 
huge crags and boulders ; in the valley it was warm, 
even hot, but by the time we reached the little ham- 
let of L'Hospitalet the altitude and the mountain 
winds made us glad to warm ourselves before a log 
fire in the dining-room of M. Soule, the town's one 
innkeeper, and, by the way, the last innkeeper we 
were destined to see until we passed into Spain; 
for Andorra, having few visitors, has little need of 
hotels. Such voyagers as penetrate into that iso- 
lated republic depend upon the hospitality of pri- 
vate citizens, a hospitality that is usually extended 
without question as long as the traveler is of de- 
cent appearance and respectable mien. 

At M. Soule 's house we met a citizen of the little 
republic, named Francois Pons, who had arrived 



282 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

that day with his mule, Aguinaldo, and for the 
modest sum of six pesetas ($1.10) Senor Pons 
agreed to rope our luggage on Aguinaldo 's back 
and carry it as far as Andorra la Veille, the re- 
public's capital city. M. Soule supplied mules for 
Beamer and me and we started next morning at 
six o'clock on our trip through the republic. 

Passing through L'Hospitalet's one steep, 
crooked street into the Andorra trail, a rough, 
rocky path up the side of the Pyrenees, we stopped 
only once before reaching the summit of the pass 
nine thousand feet above the sea. That one stop 
was on a bridge over a ravine that marks the 
boundary line between Europe's greatest and 
smallest republic; never were such near neighbors 
so unlike as Andorra and France — both are repub- 
lics, but France is big and great and powerful, 
while Andorra is weak and small and insignificant, 
except as to age. In that one particular it over- 
shadows its big neighbor by more than a thousand 
years, for Andorra has been a republic since 
Charlemagne gave it a charter in the year 801, 
while the French republic was born only a few 
decades ago. 

As our mules picked a painful way up that rocky 
trail, ever and anon stumbling over big boulders 
and almost throwing us over their heads, we began 
to understand why Andorra is not overrun by tour- 
ists. As far as the eye could reach the country 




A STREET IN ANCIENT AX : NOTE THE STAIRS 



The Smallest Republic 283 

was one vast jumble of rugged rocks and towering 
mountains. Nowhere was there any sign of hu- 
man life, but Senor Pons assured us that by and by 
we would see fine towns — Canillo, Escaldas, En- 
camp — all with stone houses and shops and 
churches a thousand years old. Later on we did 
find some of these things, but not all of them ; Se- 
nor Pons' patriotism led him to exaggerate his 
little country's attractions. 

About noon we reached the summit of the Pass, 
nine thousand feet above sea-level, and from that 
lofty point we paused to survey the marvelous 
panorama below us ; looking back we saw the trail 
up which we had been so wearily climbing, and be- 
yond the trail L'Hospitalet's stone houses and the 
military road winding down the Ariege's valley to 
Ax. It was a wonderful view, but still more won- 
derful was the view to the west, the view of the iso- 
lated and historic valley of Andorra — a valley 
which may be likened to the bottom of a prodigious 
punch bowl. To get into that bowl one must climb 
over its side nine thousand feet high, then descend 
to the bottom of the bowl nearly a mile lower than 
its rim of stupendous mountains. In one side of 
this giant bowl, the side looking toward Spain, is a 
crack, a gorge that winds through the mountains 
from the republic's capital to Sao de Urgel in 
Spain. Through this profound gorge a few days 
later we made our way out of the republic to the 



284 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

nearest Spanish railway, a hundred miles from the 
Andorran frontier. 

Shut off from the world by this giant wall, with 
no railroad, nor even wagon-road, approached only 
by a rocky trail, there is small cause for wonder 
that Andorra escapes the flood of travel which 
flows over the rest of Europe. Yet, in a way, the 
little republic is as interesting as Europe's show 
places, for it is a fossilized slice of the tenth cen- 
tury handed down intact, unchanged, for twentieth 
century inspection. Seemingly as unreal, as fan- 
tastic as Anthony Hope's imaginary kingdoms, it 
is yet a solid reality and has been so for a thousand 
years. We think of England's Magna Charta as 
a venerable document; it is old, but Andorra's 
Magna Charta is four hundred years older; it 
dates from 801, while it was not until June 5, 1215, 
that the Barons met King John at Runymede and 
laid the foundations of England's democratic 
monarchy. 

The parchment with Charlemagne's "mark" 
(the great Charles did not deign to write) is said 
to be preserved in the archives at Andorra la 
Veille, but travelers can not vouch for this since 
the archives are seldom, if ever, opened. The iron- 
bound chest containing state papers is fastened 
with six locks, the six keys of which are kept by six 
state counselors who are rarely all at the capital 



The Smallest Republic 285 

at the same time, consequently one or more keys 
are missing and the chest can not be opened. 

A century ago the Spanish Government insisted 
on ascertaining just what were Andorra's rights 
and privileges, and demanded to know what was 
inside of the mysterious six-keyed box. The little 
republic had to yield to its big neighbor's demand ; 
the six counselors were summoned and the chest 
was opened for the first time in centuries. The 
Spanish commission which made the investigation 
reported that the charter of A. D. 1278 was in the 
iron-bound chest ; the Commission said nothing one 
way or the other as to the earlier parchment of 
A. D. 801, hence no one can say positively if the 
older parchment still exists. On one point, how- 
ere, all agree, viz., that charter or no charter, An- 
dorra's independence dates from the year 801, hav- 
ing been conferred in that year by Charlemagne in 
recognition of the hardy mountaineers whose valor 
rolled back the Moorish invasion and saved Europe 
from Mohammedanism. The lofty pass where we 
paused that September day marks the limit of the 
Moorish flood of twelve hundred years ago. Those 
wild crags, and still wilder men, of Andorra were 
too much even for the fierce Mohammedans. From 
this height the Moorish flood steadily ebbed until 
it left Spain forever, eight hundred years later, at 
Almeria and Granada. 

After a last look down into the gorge leading to 



286 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

France we turned our faces westward and began 
the descent into Andorra. For some miles the 
trail zigzagged through a wilderness of boulders, 
then as we got deeper down into the bottom of the 
" Punch Bowl" we saw flocks of sheep tended by 
shepherds clad in skins ; and finally we reached the 
town of Soldeu — a collection of some sixty stone 
houses ranged on either side of a narrow lane 
paved with cobblestones. Half-way up this rocky 
lane, Senor Pons turned to the left, passed through 
an arched doorway and hailed an elderly man in 
the courtyard, feeding pigs and chickens. The 
man wore knee-breeches, flannel shirt and short 
jacket; on his head was a red Phrygian cap — a 
rough, uncouth fellow whom we took to be a hired 
man, but who proved to be Senor Z , the pro- 
prietor of the estate. On Wall Street our host of 
Soldeu would scarcely excite attention because of 
a scant hundred thousand pesetas — less than 
$20,000; but in Andorra, with its tenth century 
standards, its sublime ignorance of trusts, monopo- 
lies, franchises and frenzied finance, twenty thou- 
sand dollars is deemed an enormous sum, conse- 
quently Senor Z is reckoned by his country- 
men as a man of inordinate wealth. 

Senor Z 's home in Soldeu has a balcony 

overhanging a deep ravine ; we passed through the 
house onto this balcony and found there a dozen 
or more farmhands seated around a table eating 



The Smallest Republic 287 

bread and cheese and drinking wine. They were 
dressed like their employer, knee-breeches, flannel 
shirts, jackets or blouse, red Phrygian caps; and 
like their employer, they greeted us with friendly 
cordiality. When we asked them to pose for a 
group photograph they smilingly complied; then 
they crowded about us to ask who we were and 
what we wanted in Andorra. 

"We come from the world's youngest and big- 
gest republic to see the world's oldest and smallest 
republic. We are Americans." 

This was not literally correct; Andorra is sev- 
eral centuries younger than the republic of San 
Marino. But those peasants overlooked that error 
in their amazement at seeing in their midst travel- 
ers from so remote a place as America. They 
stared at us as if we had said we came from the 
moon, and one of them asked where was America? 
Another asked if America was as big as Spain? 
When we said it was bigger, they did not believe 
us ; Andorrans do not travel ; Spain and France are 
the only countries they know. It is not conceivable 
to them that any country can be bigger or greater 
than their French and Spanish neighbors. 

The mules we had hired from M. Soule limped 
so badly that we left them at Soldeu and made the 
rest of the way on foot. An hour's tramp brought 
us to the town of Canillo and there we saw an an- 
cient church in which was an odd kind of stove 



288 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

that served as the base, or foundation, of the pulpit 
as well as a heating apparatus for the congrega- 
tion. As some one observed, upon the degree of 
heat in the stove depends whether this novel idea 
is a luxury or a torture to the preacher. 

Beyond Canillo the trail entered a narrow defile, 
with precipices on either side that reached up into 
the clouds. In the bottom of the defile, close by the 
trail, was a leaping torrent of ice-cold water, 
crossed every now and then by stone bridges, with 
wonderful arches. Although very high and very 
frail, in reality those arches are strongly built and 
have been standing there for centuries. In this de- 
file it is dark and gloomy even at midday; at dusk, 
when we traversed it, the deafening roar of the 
waters, the frowning cliffs, the frail-looking old 
bridges made this narrow canyon look like a Dore 
illustration of Dante's Inferno. 

The distance through the defile to the town of 
Encamp was several miles, and before we emerged 
from the gloomy gorge the sun had set behind the 
towering mountains and the blackness of night was 
upon us, and Beamer wondered what would happen 
were Senor Pons to shove us into the torrent. 

"We would get wet," I answered, but the sar- 
casm was wasted on Beamer; she had read an 
article in Belgravia in which it was said that every- 
body in Andorra carried a stiletto and that brig- 
andage was the people's favorite pastime. Declar- 



The Smallest Republic 289 

ing that she felt sure Senor Pons was a brigand, 
Beamer sat clown on a rock so as to let the muleteer 
get ahead of us. In the clear light of day our 
sturdy guide had seemed a decent enough sort of 
chap, but as the twilight deepened into dark shad- 
ows that red Phrygian cap with its long hanging 
tassels assumed a fantastic aspect. And after a 
while, when there was only the dim light of the 
moon and stars, imagination converted Senor Pons 
into a veritable monster of iniquity, and Beamer 
refused to budge for an hour. 

"I am tired, anyway," she said, "and by stop- 
ping here we can rest up a bit and at the same time 
let that man get so far ahead that he can't turn 
around and murder us." 

In the course of several trips to out-of-the-way 
places (Egypt, Syria, Bulgaria and Montenegro) 
I never was molested and never felt the need of 
arms ; it has seemed safer to me in the wild moun- 
tains of Albania than in certain quarters of Paris 
or New York. Naturally, therefore, I did not share 
Beamer 's fears about our muleteer. Being in a 
lonely gorge in a remote corner of southwestern 
Europe did not necessarily mean that we were in 
any danger from man. But I did think there was 
some danger of making a misstep and falling into 
that boiling torrent ; hence I was willing that my 
wife should rest and steady her nerves before re- 
suming the tramp. 



290 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

After nearly an hour's stop in the bottom of that 
dark defile, the torrent of water boiling and bub- 
bling by us, we set forth again, feeling our way 
cautiously at every step. So slowly did we go, it 
was ten o'clock before we reached Encamp. In 
the outskirts of the town, coming toward us with a 
lantern, was Senor Pons. Alarmed at our absence, 
he had started back on the trail to look for us. 

"Ah, Monsieur and Madame !" he exclaimed, as 
we approached, "you lift a mountain from my 
bosom ! It is I, Francois Pons, who feared you had 
fallen in the waters !" 

This speech made Beamer sorry she had had 
any suspicions, and her regret was all the keener 
when presently it became apparent that but for 
this man, whom she suspected of being a brigand, 
we would have been obliged to sleep out of doors. 
For Encamp had no hotel and all the inhabitants 
were abed, excepting the Pons family. These good 
people, knowing we were coming, were waiting 
with a hot supper, relished none the less that it 
was eaten in a room over a stable. 

Leading the way with his lantern, Senor Pons 
of a sudden turned into a doorway that opened into 
an earth-floored room, surrounded by stalls in 
which stood mules and oxen. In a corner of this 
room was a ladder; we followed Senor Pons up 
this ladder into a room thirty feet long by twenty 
feet wide. At one end of the room was a balcony 



The Smallest Republic 291 

overlooking the narrow street. At the room's 
other end was a huge chimney with a bench on 
either side. We sat on one of these benches warm- 
ing ourselves before the brushwood fire. The 
chimney was large enough to spit an ox and turn 
it over the fire. But we had no ox, nor any other 
kind of meat, for supper, only a kettle of soup, 
bread and beans — which, however, thanks to our 
long tramp and the mountain air, tasted to us bet- 
ter than any chef's dinner had ever tasted in New 
York or Paris. 

Senor Pons' wife was a comely, dark-eyed 
woman, Spanish in type and exceedingly amiable. 
Not one word did she know of any languge we un- 
derstood, nevertheless by signs and pantomime she 
managed to make our stay instructive as well as 
pleasant. Around the walls, hanging from hooks 
near the ceiling, were a lot of big bags filled with 
the family's clothing. In the Greek islands I once 
saw similar bags on the walls, but those Greek bags 
contained the daughter's trousseau, a collection of 
articles begun from the day the first daughter was 
born and continued until the day of her marriage. 
The Andorran bags were not trousseaux, they were 
merely hanging wardrobes. 

The room which Senora Pons gave us after we 
had finished our supper was the biggest surprise of 
all, for it was both clean and comfortable — two 
things one does not expect to find in a peasant's 



292 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

home over a stable. Expecting to sleep on corn 
shucks, we foundla neat iron bedstead (brought on 
muleback from France) laid with snowy, hand- 
made linen, edged with lace, the pillow slips with 
hand-embroidered monograms which Senora Pons 
said had been in the family for generations. Our 
only fear in that clean, inviting little room was 
lest certain winged and crawling visitors might 
intrude upon us from the stable below; happily, 
this fear proved groundless, and next morning we 
set forth greatly refreshed by the night's sleep at 
Encamp. 

After miles of tramping through deep defiles, 
alongside that foaming torrent of water, across 
rickety old bridges, past magnificent waterfalls — 
scenery as grand as anything in Switzerland — a 
sudden turn in the trail brought us upon a ledge of 
rock that looked down upon a valley a thousand 
feet below. At the base of the cliff upon which we 
s<tood was the town of Escaldas ; two miles beyond 
was Andorra la Veille, the republic's capital city 
perched on the side of a steep mountain overlook- 
ing the historic field where, twelve hundred years 
ago, the Moors were routed by a handful of sturdy 
mountaineers, who thus won from Charlemagne an 
independence that has lasted till the present day, 
long after Charlemagne's empire has become but 
a dim page in medieval history. 

Half an hour's walk down the winding trail 



The Smallest Republic 293 

along the face of that lofty ledge brought us to 
Escaldas, with its springs of hot water gushing 
forth in such volume that a little river of steaming 
water flows alongside the town's main street; as 
we followed Senor Pons and his mule, Aguinaldo, 
into the heart of the town, we saw women kneeling 
on the banks of this hot stream, washing clothes. 

We were entertained in Escaldas at the home of 
Dr. Pla, a gentleman who had been to Barcelona 
and spoke Spanish and French; from him we 
learned some things about this ancient but almost 
forgotten republic, with its hundred and seventy- 
five square miles (a little larger than Greater New 
York), and its population of about twelve thousand 
(slightly smaller than a couple of New York 
hotels). 

Sheep herding and the cultivation of tobacco, 
wheat, barley, rye, hemp and chocolate occupy the 
energies of some of the people, while jasper quar- 
ries and lead mines give employment to others. 
Wolves, bears, chamois and wild goats abound in 
the mountains. There is no postal service, but 
"runners" go to Sao de Urgel, in Spain, and to 
L'Hospitalet, in France. By the use of either a 
French or a Spanish postage stamp, letters may 
be sent to the outer world. If a Spanish stamp is 
used the letter goes by the big "crack" in the 
mountains to Spain ; when a French stamp is used 
the letter goes over the pass beyond Soldeu. 



294 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Two officers, called Vigeurs, administer the crim- 
inal law and from their decisions lies no appeal. 
Congress, elected for two years, is composed of 
twenty-four men, four from each of the republic's 
six cantons. A president, chosen by Congress, ap- 
points deputies to act as governors of the cantons. 
If anything goes wrong in a town it is the presi- 
dent's deputy who sets it right; if you misbehave 
it is the deputy president who locks you up — in 
his cellar for slight offenses; for grave offenses 
he ties your feet under the belly of a mule and con- 
ducts you in this ignominious fashion to the stone 
dungeon in Andorra la Veille. The stone building 
where the Congress meets is centuries old; An- 
dorran fashion, it has a stable on the ground floor ; 
on the second floor, in addition to the hall of Con- 
gress, there are sleeping-rooms, a dining-hall and 
a kitchen. 

On reaching the capital the Congressmen stable 
their horses in the stalls surrounding the ground- 
floor vestibule; then they mount the stone stairs, 
put their saddle-bags in the small sleeping-apart- 
ments, go to the Council Hall and there don a long 
black cloak and a three-cornered black hat, like 
the hats worn by the soldiers of George Washing- 
ton. These cloaks and hats belong to the state, and 
upon adjournment of Congress they are hung back 
on their pegs, there to remain till Congress con- 
venes again. If one may judge from their faded, 



The Smallest Republic 295 

frayed condition, the robes and hats must have 
been in use for many generations. Adjacent to the 
Council Hall is a chapel containing an altar sur- 
mounted by a large picture of Christ ; an inscrip- 
tion states that the painting was presented in 1895 
by President Faure of France to the President of 
Andorra as a token of France's affection for the 
Andorran people. 

From civil suits appeals are allowed at the 
plaintiff's option to the French appellate court, sit- 
ting at Toulouse, or to the Spanish court at Barce- 
lona. Such appeals, however, are infrequent. In- 
deed, litigation of any kind is rare in Andorra. 
There are only three lawyers in the entire republic, 
one at the capital, one in Ordino and one in En- 
camp. Doctors are equally scarce, there being be- 
sides our host, Dr. Pla, only two others, one in 
Soldeu and one in Andorra la Veille. 

Andorra la Veille is only half an hour's walk 
from Escaldas; we walked there from Dr. Pla's 
and called on the president in the White House — a 
square, stone building, painted a dazzling white, 
with windows looking down upon a public square 
and fountain. The president, a mild-eyed man, 
with pointed gray beard and shrewd but kindly 
eyes, received us with grave courtesy. When we 
expressed a wish to see the government building, 
he himself consented to act as our cicerone. 

The key which the president got to open the door 



296 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

was nearly a foot long and must have weighed a 
pound. The president carried it in his hand in 
front of him, as though it were an emblem of his 
office ; we followed him through the winding streets 
to the ancient government building. There we saw 
not only the twenty-four black cloaks and hats, but 
also the celebrated iron-bound chest with its six 
locks guarding the republic's Magna Charta. The 
president said that he himself had never seen the 
inside of the chest; not in his lifetime have all 
six of the keys been in Andorra la Veille at the 
same time. 

Until recently, apart from a trifling tribute paid 
to France and to the Bishop of Sao de Urgel, An- 
dorrans have been exempt from taxation. Mem- 
bers of Congress receive for their services only a 
few measures of wheat and barley; the president's 
salary is a similar trifle, and even the judges are 
paid in glory rather than in gold. About the only 
compensation received by a Vigeur is the right to 
style himself "Prince of Andorra." But several 
years ago the twentieth century spirit of unrest 
penetrated even into Andorra and the people de- 
cided they wanted a road — not a railroad ; even the 
twentieth century has not made them that radical, 
but the Andorrans do say it would be well to make 
it possible for a wagon to get into the republic. 
And so the people voted to levy a road tax. The 
president said the road would be completed in five 



The Smallest Republic 297 

years. If this prophecy proves correct, then An- 
dorra will lose its air of the Middle Ages ; for with 
the passing of the present arduous means of get- 
ting into and out of the republic, there will pass 
the present isolation and remoteness, and a stream 
of tourists will pour in and blot out the tenth cen- 
tury atmosphere that now pervades the place. 

The wagon-road will also make it easier for 
smugglers. Tobacco, being a government monop- 
oly in most European States, may not be grown 
by a private person; but in Andorra it is not a 
government monopoly and so is planted in nearly 
every man's back-yard. The temptation is, of 
course, great to smuggle it through the " crack' ' 
into Spain, or over the pass into France. It is 
difficult to conceal much tobacco on a mule 's back ; 
on a wagon, under a lot of vegetables or hay or 
grain, the trick will be easy, consequently the guild 
of Andorran smugglers is anticipating lively times 
when that wagon-road is completed. 

Four hundred years after Charlemagne's death, 
Charles the Bold trumped up a claim of sove- 
reignty over Andorra, and the better to resist 
Charles' demands the republic formed an alliance 
with the Bishop of Urgel and with Count Eay- 
mond, of Foix. This alliance freed the moun- 
taineers from Charles' aggression, but it got them 
into another trouble ; for the Bishop and the Count 
demanded compensation for their services in driv- 



298 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

ing off Charles the Bold. That compensation took 
the form of acknowledging the Bishopric and the 
House of Foix as suzerains to whom must be paid 
annual tribute. The tribute is a trifle, still it is a 
tribute, hence Andorra no longer feels that it is 
free. 

In the sixteenth century the power wielded by 
the great French nobles was centralized in the 
House of Bourbon; in the eighteenth century the 
Bourbons gave way to the revolution and to Na- 
poleon. But no matter what the form of govern- 
ment, Andorra has paid France a tribute of $192 
every year since the year 1278. It must be a big 
day in Paris when the Andorran commissioner ar- 
rives with that $192; centuries and governments 
may come and go in Paris, but Andorra apparently 
means to go on forever. Apart from the suzer- 
ainty implied by the payment of that $192, France 
has always recognized the little republic's inde- 
pendence. In 1794, when a French army entered 
Andorra for the purpose of getting to Sao de Ur- 
gel, a deputation from the little republic was re- 
spectfully received in Paris; the protest lodged 
with the French government was declared well 
taken; the French army was recalled and in- 
structed not again to violate neutral territory. On 
assuming the title of emperor, Napoleon received 
the President of Andorra at the palace of Fon- 
tainebleau, negotiated with him as with the head of 



The Smallest Republic 299 

a foreign state and gravely thanked him when he 
signed a treaty repudiating the Bourbons and ac- 
knowledging Napoleon as the rightful sovereign 
of France. It is said Napoleon endeavored to 
dazzle the Andorran president with the splendors 
of the imperial court, but the sturdy republican 
gazed unmoved upon the pomp and pageantry of 
Paris and returned to his mountain home as good 
a patriot as ever. 

From Dr. Pla's place in Escaldas we made a 
number of excursions. A specially enjoyable one 
was that to a mesa two thousand feet above the 
town. At the edge of the mesa, looking down on 
the white houses of Escaldas, was an old church 
with a tall tower; near-by was a sheet of crystal 
water called the Lac d'Engalastes, one of the high- 
est and most picturesque lakes in the world. On 
the shores of this lake were peasants plowing in 
much the same style as peasants plowed in the time 
of Moses. Long-horned oxen supplied the motive 
power that dragged rough ivooden plowshares 
through the rocky soil. We wanted to photograph 
one of these yeomen, but not being familiar with 
kodaks he imagined we were pointing some sort of 
infernal machine at him, and he refused to pose for 
us. Presently, however, when he thought the at- 
tempt abandoned, and returned to his plowing, I 
drew my camera out again and got a good picture 



300 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

of the wooden plow and of the yeoman who was 
driving it. 

When the day of our departure arrived there 
appeared in front of Dr. Pla's house the faithful 
Aguinaldo, accompanied by another mule named 
Cordoba. But Senor Pons did not come, to our 
sorrow, for we had come to like the man ; moreover, 
his substitute could not speak a word of any lan- 
guage that we could understand. As far as getting 
information was concerned, we might as well have 
been accompanied by a graven image. 

A few hours after leaving Dr. Pla's we found 
ourselves in San Julia de Loria, a village perched 
on the side of a steep mountain ; a little farther on 
the space between the mountains contracted into 
a narrow gorge through which the rocky trail 
wound its way, sometimes near the bottom close to 
the foaming rapids, at other times along the edge 
of precipitous cliffs hundreds of feet sheer above 
the bottom of the gorge. That we finally got out 
alive was due to the fact that our faithful mules 
never lifted their hoofs until certain of a safe spot 
to put them ; in turning the zigzag corners, Aguin- 
aldo's tail sometimes projected out over the 
canyon, but his feet were always planted firmly 
among the boulders of that wonderful path. 

And so in time we lost our nervousness and even 
ate our dinner while riding on muleback: the 
blackberries which grew in abundance on the slope 



The Smallest Republic 301 

beside the trail afforded a pleasant dessert to our 
otherwise dry repast of bread and cheese. All we 
had to do was to say, "Whoa!" to Aguinaldo and 
to Cordoba, then reach out and pick the berries. 
Though not so comfortable a dining-car route as 
that of some American railways, it was far more 
novel, and the scenery upon which we feasted our 
eyes while seated on those mules, eating bread, 
cheese and blackberries, was grander than the 
scenery to be seen from any dining-car window in 
either Europe or America. 

But it was slow, oh, so slow ! Six hours were re- 
quired to cover the sixteen miles between San Julia 
de Loria and Sao de Urgel, the ancient Spanish 
city that claims a half interest with France in su- 
zerainty over the republic of Andorra. From Sao 
de Urgel a wagon-road goes eighty miles to Calaf , 
whence one may reach either Barcelona or Madrid 
by express-train equipped with sleeping-cars. 
From Sao de Urgel, after bidding our mules fare- 
well, we made the journey to Calaf in a two- 
wheeled cart which its owner called by some eu- 
phonious name, but which we called the " Torture' ' 
wagon. It had neither springs nor cushions, and 
it was covered with a canvas hood that not only 
shut out all view of the country, but it was so low 
we had to stoop in order to avoid striking the top 
with our heads. 

For the first few hours the change from mule- 



302 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

back riding was restful, but bye-and-bye we began 
to feel cramped and stiff and miserable, and by 
midnight Beamer could stand it no longer. So we 
stopped at the first village, which, oddly enough, 
bore the same name as our Andorran muleteer, 
Pons. Short as was our sleep at Pons it rested 
us and enabled us to stand the rest of the journey. 
We started again early next morning, and at five 
o'clock in the afternoon the "Torture" wagon 
drew up in front of the Calaf station in time for us 
to board a train for Barcelona. Three hours later 
we were in Catalonia's capital, a thoroughly mod- 
ern city, in which Andorra, although two days' dis- 
tant in the Pyrenees, seemed quickly to fade away 
into the land of dreams. Climbing steep mountains 
and riding in a "Torture" wagon isn't the pleas- 
antest thing in the world, but discomfort is not too 
dear a price to pay for the novel experience of 
spending a week in a republic founded by Charle- 
magne, among a people whose lives and customs 
are those of the people of ten centuries ago. 

From Barcelona an all-day railroad ride along 
the Mediterranean brought us back to Nice, where 
we were delighted to find the Get-There ready and 
waiting for the trip to Italy. 



CHAPTEE XVI 

Along the Riviera to Genoa.— Italy's Fourth of July.— Spezzia. 
— Pisa and Florence. — The ancient monastery of Monte Oli- 
veto. — Orvieto and Bolsena to Rome. 

A LTHOUGH the distance along the Mediter- 
"*** ranean from Nice to Genoa is only a hun- 
dred and thirty miles, the Get-There consumed a 
day in making the run ; this because the road is not 
only as sinuous as the letter S, but because it is 
also a constant succession of ups and downs ; more- 
over, there was much delay in crossing the frontier 
into Italy. At Mentone the French customs officer 
took less than ten minutes to refund the six hun- 
dred and seventy-six francs which we had paid on 
the Get-There at Havre, but half a mile east of 
Mentone, at the top of a steep hill, the Italian cus- 
toms officer detained us an hour. He said our trip- 
tyque was not good for the gasoline in the Get- 
There y s tank, neither did it cover the two spare 
tires on the running-board. The duty on the tires, 
24.60 lire (about $4.50), would be refunded when 
they were taken out of Italy; the duty on the gaso- 
line, of course, could not be refunded : how much 
was the gasoline duty? That was a puzzle. 

303 



304* Seeing Europe by Automobile 

The Italian officer did not understand our 
notched stick ; at any rate, he did not accept it as 
correct, yet to estimate the quantity for himself 
was difficult. The tank under the Get-There 's seat 
was of irregular shape and hard to get at, hence 
there was no way correctly to gauge its contents. 
Finally the officer gave up the attempt to measure 
it and made a rough guess. 

"I think,' ' said he, "that you have ten liters; 
the duty is twenty-five centessimi a liter, conse- 
quently you must pay two and a half lire" (about 
half a dollar). 

As the notched stick showed fifty liters in our 
tank we were glad the officer preferred to make a 
guess, for his guess cost us only half a dollar, 
whereas, according to actual measurement, the 
duty would have been two dollars and a half. On 
entering Italy a short time before (on the " Curly' ' 
Pass, going to Domo d'Osola) no duty was re- 
quired on either the gasoline in our tank or the 
tires on the running-board; motorists who have 
entered Italy at other points tell us no such duty 
was required of them. I do not know if the Italian 
law authorizes it, but I do know that that customs 
officer at the top of the steep hill east of Mentone 
made us pay 27.10 lire before the Get-There was 
permitted to enter Italy, and it took him more than 
an hour to fill out the papers connected with the 



The Get-There in Italy 305 

transaction. At no other place in Europe were we 
subjected to such delay. 

This was not my first experience with that cus- 
toms bureau. Nineteen years before, when on a 
bicycle trip from Marseilles to Rome, I was 
stopped at that same place and made to pay $16.80 
duty on my bicycle. On that trip it took two long 
days to go from Monte Carlo to Genoa, for a bi- 
cyclist not only has to walk up hills, he also has to 
push his wheel up ; but up even the steepest hills a 
motorist can count on making ten miles an hour, 
and instead of having to push a wheel along, he re- 
mains comfortably seated among his automobile 
cushions. 

As the Get-There climbed the long, steep ascents 
on that road to Genoa, I recalled how, in 1891, I 
wearily walked up those same hills, pushing my 
wheel before me ; and I sympathized with myself 
for the hardships I had borne. Certainly it must 
have been tough work — and yet at the time it 
seemed glorious sport, so rose-colored do all things 
seem to him who has strength and health and, 
above all else, youth! 

For more than a thousand years after Rome's 
downfall, Italy was a nest of petty duchies, king- 
doms and municipal republics; and war was the 
people's daily business. If foreign foes were lack- 
ing, then one city made war on its neighbor. Pisa 
and Genoa hammered one another so long and so 



300 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

hard that Pisa was thrown into a sleep from which 
it has not yet awaked — it is to-day the sleepiest 
city in Europe. And Genoa, enfeebled by her con- 
stant quarrels with Pisa and Venice, fell an easy 
prey to foreign foes and was ruled first by one, 
then by another, alien power. As late as 1815 
1870, the Italians captured Rome, and since that 
1870, the Italians captured Eome, and since that 
day Italy, from the Alps to Sicily, has been a 
united nation. 

The effort to support her new dignity, to keep 
step with her larger and richer neighbors, has in- 
volved the maintenance of an army and navy out 
of proportion to her wealth and resources ; never- 
theless, a united Italy is so much better than the 
Italy of divided factions and warring neighbors, 
most Italians are pleased with the change, and 
September 20th is to Italy what the Fourth of July 
is to the United States, and the fourteenth of July 
is to France. 

When the Get-There rolled into Genoa on Sep- 
tember 20th, the streets were filled with people. 
Banks and business houses were closed; every- 
body seemed to be out of doors talking to his neigh- 
bors. On many walls and billboards were socialist 
proclamations, and on some of the street corners 
socialist orators were speaking, but the people 
gave them but a languid ear. Although poor, they 
seemed contented and bent on enjoying the holiday 



w 



The Get-There in Italy 307 

rather than listening to denunciations of social 
conditions. 

Since my first visit, twenty-five years ago, many 
of Genoa's ancient rookeries have been torn down, 
and where then were narrow, winding lanes bor- 
dered by high houses hundreds of years old, with 
dark, ill-smelling, unsanitary surroundings, there 
are now stately stone structures, with plenty of 
light, standing on streets broader and better paved 
than the streets of most American cities. The 
chief of these new thoroughfares, a broad boule- 
vard named " Via Vente Settembre," after the day 
that saw Italy united, is flanked on both sides with 
handsome stores opening out upon arched and 
vaulted colonnades under the protecting cover of 
which the ladies of Genoa go shopping without 
having to heed the weather. 

It was warm when we left Genoa on the morning 
of September 21st, but the road soon began rapidly 
to ascend, and within half an hour our barometer 
registered 2,150 feet, at which height the wind was 
so cold that wraps were again in order. If we may 
judge from our experience, wraps should always 
be kept within reach on a European motor trip, for 
even in summer and in Southern Europe you can 
not tell when the climbing of a mountain pass will 
take you to an altitude where there is a "nipping 
and an eager air." 
In the sixty-five miles between Genoa and Spez- 



308 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

zia there must be at least sixty-five tunnels and 
twice that many railroad crossings. The road fol- 
lows the indentations of the mountainous coast, so 
does the railway, consequently the two are con- 
stantly intersecting, and when a train is due gates 
are closed across the highway and no one is per- 
mitted to proceed until the train has passed. Where 
there are a lot of trains, and where many of them 
are half an hour or so behind time, this gate-clos- 
ing business becomes disagreeable. After waiting 
before one of those closed gates for half an hour 
I besought the gatekeeper, a woman, to let us go on. 

"It won't take a minute to cross the track,' ' I 
said. 

"But, senor, the train is due." 

1 i Senora, the train may be due, but it is not here ; 
it is not even in sight. We could easily cross be- 
fore it comes.' ' 

"lam sorry, senor, but it is against the rules 
to open the gate when the train is due. ' ' 

We waited another ten minutes, then Beamer 
said: 

"Madam, if you were hurrying for a doctor for 
your dying son, what would you think of one who 
kept you waiting — waiting, perhaps, till your boy 
was dead?" 

"Oh, senora, why did you not tell me sooner? 
The others must wait, but you may take the risk 
of crossing." 



The Get-There in Italy 309 

No train was in sight, so we gladly took the 
"risk"; the long line of carts and wagons which 
had accumulated was not allowed to pass, but the 
gate was opened for us. In a minute we were over 
the track and on our way rejoicing. 

For some miles before reaching Spezzia signs 
on walls and trees extolled the excellence of the 
Hotel Croce di Malta; and on entering the city 
scores of boys ran alongside the Get-There and im- 
plored us to go to the Hotel Croce di Malta ; three 
boys jumped on the running-board and insisted on 
showing us the way to that hostelry. When we got 
there the proprietor charged fifteen lire for a 
room; table d'hote dinner was seven lire — more 
than we had paid for the best accommodations in 
France, where prices are higher than in Italy. So 
we dismissed our boy guides and drove to a hotel 
not so well advertised, but seemingly just as good, 
and there we got an excellent dinner for three and 
a half lire and a good room for six lire — less than 
half the other hotel's charges. 

From the roof of our hotel we saw, across the 
bay, the town of Lerici, where Shelley resided in 
1825, and from whose port he sailed, never to re- 
turn until his body was washed ashore by the sea. 
Italy's royal dockyards are at Spezzia; we visited 
them, saw the big warships, drove through the 
city's principal streets, then early next morning 
we went on to Pisa. 



310 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

It took three hours to make the fifty-mile run 
from Spezzia to Pisa, so rough and rutty was the 
road and so many hay- wagons did we encounter; 
the drivers, half buried in their mountain of hay, 
sometimes failed to awake even when our siren 
and horn wailed and honked together, and then I 
would have to get out of the Get-There and run 
forward and turn the oxen out of the road so that 
we could pass. On one occasion, tired of getting 
down from my seat and turning out the wagons, I 
determined to make such a din that the peasant 
would be obliged to awake ; I failed, for the fellow 
was either deaf or drunk. He lay there snoring in 
his cart as peacefully as if on a bed of down in the 
solitude of his home. Then Beamer waved her 
hand at the mule that was drawing the cart and 
motioned him to turn aside. Whether she hypno- 
tized him, or whether the mule, more sensible than 
his master, thought it well to heed the dreadful din 
our siren and horn were making, I cannot say, but 
when Beamer waved her hand at that mule it is a 
fact that he deliberately turned rightabout face 
and started back in the direction from which he 
had come ; and at the first widening of the road we 
forged ahead and passed him. When that peasant 
finally awoke and found himself at his starting 
point, he must have been a very surprised and dis- 
gusted individual. 

We entered Pisa through a gate near the leaning 



The Get-There in Italy 311 

tower and kodaked the Get-There with that grace- 
ful structure as a background; twenty-five years 
ago, during my Tramp Trip, when I was on top 
of Pisa's leaning tower, an American lady took 
me for an Italian robber; at that time less than 
three persons were not permitted to ascend the 
tower, and the three, once on top, had to re- 
main until all three were ready to descend. That 
American lady was with her daughter. When she 
emerged from the winding steps onto the top and 
saw that I was the third member of the party, she 
said to her daughter, ' ' Oh, dear ! what a villainous- 
looking Italian !" And wanted to descend at once, 
but the mother and daughter could not go down as 
long as I chose to remain. The rules required 
each party of three to ascend and descend together 
— I enjoyed the situation for awhile, then I told 
the lady, in English, that I was ready to afford her 
relief by leaving ; she was still glad to go, but now 
it was because of embarrassment rather than fear. 
Since that episode the rule has been changed, and 
to-day as few as two persons are permitted to as- 
cend the tower. A soldier told us the reason no 
one is allowed to go up alone is because the tower 
is so high and leans so much and is so convenient 
for suiciding that the presence of a second party 
is deemed advisable to prevent people from jump- 
ing off. Formerly the presence of two persons was 
thought necessary to prevent the third person from 



312 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

committing suicide, which explains why, on my 
first visit, visitors were required to be in parties 
of not less than three. 

Driving slowly through Pisa's quiet streets we 
went almost to the eastern gate, then turned to the 
right and stopped in the shade of the city's mass- 
ive wall to take our lunch. In any other town of 
thirty thousand inhabitants, were two motorists to 
spread a cloth on the grass, open a basket and 
spend an hour in lunching on a public street, a 
crowd would gather, but the Pisans gave us merely 
a languid glance and went sleepily on their way — 
that is, such of them as passed that way; but dur- 
ing the hour not more than a dozen passed. There 
were moments when the streets about us were ab- 
solutely empty, not a cart, a carriage or even a 
pedestrian ! 

Two hours after leaving Pisa the Get-There en- 
tered Florence, and as we drove through the 
streets, looking for an hotel I told Beamer how, on 
my first visit to Tuscany 's capital, I arrived dusty 
and tired after a ten days' tramp from Rome, and 
went to a little inn called the Albergo II Giglio. 
"You won't want to stop there," I said. "But 
after we get settled in a good hotel I want to show 
you my old inn ; I want you to see that even though 
I was seeing Europe on fifty cents a day I had a 
comfortable room and a clean bed. And it cost me 
only ten cents a night ! ' ' 




THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA LOOKED AS IF IT WERE 
ABOUT TO FALL UPON THE GET-THERE 



The Get-There in Italy 313 

Hardly had I said this than Beamer remarked 
on a fine building that we were passing. On a sign 
over the central door were the words : ' ' Alia Stella 
d 'Italia. " " That 's a hotel, ' ' she said. < ' If it has 
a garage let us stop there. It looks like a nice 
place.' ' 

They did have a garage, and the price of a good 
room looking out on Florence's gayest street was 
only seven lire ($1.40), so we decided to stop there. 
The garage in the rear was reached by a side street. 
The porter of the hotel got on the running-board 
to show me the way, and five minutes later the 
Get-There passed through the Via Elisabetta and 
turned into a little court. And there above a door- 
way was the sign: "Albergo II Giglio!" 

Unwittingly we had come, after all, to the hotel 
of my tramp days. The proprietor of that little 
inn, having prospered, had leased the building be- 
tween his inn and the main street and had opened 
up a passage between the two houses. He operated 
the new place, the Hotel Alia Stella d 'Italia, for 
tourists at high prices (comparatively), while the 
original inn continued to cater to peasants who 
stored their carts in a covered court under the "II 
Giglio" when they came to Florence to spend the 
day. 

After dinner we walked through the passageway 
into the II Giglio and took a look at my old room, 
No. 26 — it was not large or well furnished, like our 



314* Seeing Europe by Automobile 

present quarters, but considering its cost (only- 
ten cents a day), Beamer agreed with me in think- 
ing it a marvel of cleanliness. 

Like Genoa, Florence has witnessed great 
changes within the past twenty years; the laby- 
rinth of lanes near the old market has disappeared. 
On my last visit that quarter was just as it was in 
the days of Savanarola; often while rambling 
about the Mercato Vecchio and the Ponte Vecchio, 
I used to fancy that among the cowled monks glid- 
ing softly through those narrow, crooked lanes 
one of them might be Savanarola, and that Tito 
and Eomola were hard-by and might be seen 
with a little patience and watching. The Ponte 
Vecchio still has its ancient shops, it still retains 
its medieval atmosphere, but the narrow streets on 
the western banks of the Arno exist no more. They 
have been widened, stately buildings have replaced 
the old rookeries and in the center of the quarter 
where, in 1885, I used to lose myself in dreams of 
the fifteenth century there is now a large square 
in the center of which stands a marble arch on 
which are carved the words : 

"L'Antica Centro della Citta da Secolare Squallore a Vita 

Nuova Restituito." 

(The ancient center of the city restored from the neglect of 

centuries to new life.) 

From Florence to Siena, by the highway, is 
forty-three miles ; the Get-There made the run in 



The Get-There in Italy 315 

two hours, and after a short pause to see once 
again the Palazzo Publico and the Cathedral, 
Siena's principal lions — and veritable lions they 
are, too, well worth the much longer visit paid them 
on a former trip — we coasted down a three-mile- 
long hill to Buonconvento, a squalid village where 
the emperor, Henry VII, died in 1313. On a moun- 
tain high above Buonconvento is the ancient mon- 
astery of Monte Oliveto. When on my bicycle trip 
I toiled painfully up that mountain, pushing my 
wheel before me, and reached the monastery late at 
night, faint with cold and hunger. The venerable 
Abate Gaetano di Negra, last of the monastery's 
Abbots, opened the big doors to me and to the 
friend with whom I was traveling. He warmed us 
with a brushwood fire and gave us an excellent 
supper and a comfortable bed. We spent several 
days in that isolated thirteenth century place, with 
that delightfully simple and good-hearted man; 
and in bidding him good-by we said we meant to 
come and see him again some day. 

"You may revisit the monastery,' ' replied the 
venerable Abate, "but you will not see me again, 
unless it be in Paradise. I am old and my end is 
near." 

The Abate was right; on my second visit I 
learned that he died on September 27, 1896, five 
years after my arrival there with my bicycle. The 
Italian Government has suppressed the monastery, 



316 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

and the vast building which once held hundreds of 
monks is now untenanted save by a caretaker and 
two or three assistants. The caretaker showed us 
the Abate di Negra's day-book and there, under 
date of December 19, 1891, I found my name as I 
had written it nineteen years before at the request 
of my venerable host. 

We ate our lunch on top of Monte Oliveto, near 
the deserted monastery, then coasted six miles 
down the mountain to Buonconvento and turned 
once more towards the south, on the highway to 
Kome. This part of the trip was doubly familiar 
to me, as I had been over it on foot in 1885, and 
on bicycle in 1891. Both of those years were long 
before automobiles. In those days regions not 
reached by railroads seldom saw travelers. In 
1891 the arrival of our bicycles at places like San 
Quirico and Acquapendente, thirty to fifty miles 
from the nearest railways, was the signal for the 
whole town to quit work and come and stare at the 
strangers. Few travelers left the beaten path 
when the only way to leave it was afoot or awheel ; 
but even the least energetic person finds motoring 
a delight, consequently, nowadays, even the most 
out-of-the-way place is apt to receive the visits of 
foreigners. Nowhere on the entire trip from 
Havre to Naples did we find a village so remote 
that automobiles had not been there, and few places 



The Get-There in Italy 317 

were unprepared to store the Get-There and to 
supply it with gasoline and oil. 

Badicafini, twenty miles south of San Quirico, 
is perched upon a volcanic rock, three thousand 
feet high. The road up that rock is so steep that 
peasants near the summit make a business of hir- 
ing their oxen to help pull automobiles over the 
pass. When we got to that steepest part we found 
oxen there, but we did not need them. Greatly to 
the peasants' disgust the Get-There climbed that 
peak without a cylinder missing fire and without 
the motor becoming unduly heated. The ramparts 
around Eadicafini look down upon a jumble of 
lesser volcanic peaks and upon a desolate, sterile- 
looking valley; on that lofty eminence, amid such 
barrenness and desolation, it is difficult to under- 
stand how the townspeople earn a living. 

After passing through the quaint old town of 
Acquapendente we saw, in a valley far below the 
town, the beautiful lake of Bolsena, a circular sheet 
of crystal water twenty-seven miles in circumfer- 
ence, with an extinct volcano in its center, rising 
to a height of more than a thousand feet. Four- 
teen hundred years ago the daughter of Theodoric 
the Great was imprisoned on that volcanic island 
and one day, while bathing in the lake, she was 
seized and strangled, by order of her cousin, who 
wanted the throne for himself. In those days men 



318 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

did not stop at a little thing like murder, if thereby 
a throne was to be gained. 

On descending from the plateau on which Acqua- 
pendente stands, we skirted Lake Bolsena's shores 
for many miles, then we turned abruptly to the 
left, climbed a steep mountain and an hour later 
arrived at the edge of a precipice overlooking a 
valley a thousand and fifty feet below; a mile away, 
on a prodigious rock that rose hundreds of feet out 
of the valley, was Orvieto. The valley, the huge 
rock, the ancient city perched on top of the rock — 
all made so picturesque a sight that we lingered 
long to view it. From where we stood the distance 
to Orvieto was not great, but the steep descent into 
the valley, followed by the stiff climb to the top of 
that prodigious rock, made motoring slow. An 
hour elapsed before the Get-There drew up in front 
of Orvieto 's wonderful cathedral. This edifice, 
erected in 1285, would be deemed in most cities the 
reverse of modern, but in Orvieto, whose history 
antedates even Koine's, a thirteenth century build- 
ing seems almost like a thing of yesterday. Long 
before Rome ruled the world Orvieto was one of 
the twelve capitals of the Etruscan League, and in 
its cemetery are to be seen tombs of the fifth cen- 
tury before Christ. That is to say, they are hun- 
dreds of years older than the tombs that line the 
Appian Way. 

From the cathedral we went to the old fortress 



The Get-There in Italy 319 

built nearly five hundred years ago on the edge of 
the huge rock on which Orvieto stands, and there 
we got a superb view of the valley and of the mag- 
nificent amphitheatre of mountains which hem the 
valley in at a little distance away. In the fortress 
is a well forty feet in diameter and several hun- 
dred feet deep ; two separate spiral staircases wind 
round its shaft ; in olden days, when Orvieto with- 
stood long sieges this well was the city's sole water 
supply and the stairs were built double so that the 
mules carrying empty water-casks down into the 
well would not meet the mules carrying the filled 
casks up out of the well. 

Twenty miles from Orvieto the Get-There 
climbed another mountain into Montefiascone, a 
town on top of a rock that rises a sheer thousand 
feet above Lake Bolsena. We stopped there an 
hour to enjoy the view of the lake and of the Gothic 
Queen's volcanic island prison, a thousand feet be- 
low us, then we coasted down the mountain to Vi- 
terbo and just without that city's Porta Eomana 
we began to climb another mountain. Seven miles 
from Viterbo, when our barometer indicated an 
ascent of fourteen hundred feet, we found our- 
selves on the edge of another precipice, eight hun- 
dred feet above the ancient Lago di Vigo, whose 
crystal waters fill the enormous crater of an ex- 
tinct volcano. Eonciglione, the next town on our 
route, was a picturesque place, situated on the top 



320 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

and on the sides of a deep ravine; after that we 
entered the lonely Roman Campagna and for 
twenty miles, almost all the way to Rome, the Get- 
There flew up and down hills and across desolate 
valleys, not a town or a village on the route. We 
were glad when the end of the Campagna was 
reached and we crossed the Tiber on an ancient 
bridge whose arches were built before the time of 
Julius Caesar. 

Beyond this ancient bridge the Get-There rolled 
along over the Via Flaminia, a road constructed 
B. C. 220, and entered Rome at the Porta del Po- 
polo, the same gate through which I passed at five 
o'clock of a May morning, in 1885, on my ten-day 
tramp to Florence. 



CHAPTER XVII 

Rome revisited. — South on the Appian Way. — Across the Pon- 
tine Marshes. — The road to Naples. — The spot where Nero 
murdered his mother. — South from Naples to Amalfl. and 
Salerno. — Pompeii. 

OEVERAL days were spent in Rome, hastily re- 
^ visiting its principal sights. The Coliseum 
we visited late at night; in the daytime, with 
crowds of tourists inside, and outside the clanging 
of trolley cars and cries of street vendors hawk- 
ing picture post-cards, the cynical traveler may 
come to look on the Coliseum as merely a prodigi- 
ous pile of brick. But in the stillness of the mid- 
night hour, seated on a fallen column in the shadow 
of those towering walls, near the cells where Chris- 
tians and wild beasts were caged, eighteen hun- 
dred years ago, the terrible tragedy of the place be- 
comes vivid and real, and it is easy to understand 
how musing at night in that weird place a century 
ago inspired Gibbon to undertake his monumental 
history of Rome. 

In the Borghese Gardens, recently bought by 
Rome for three million lire ($600,000), we renewed 
acquaintance with Canova's beautiful statue of 

321 



322 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Pauline Bonaparte; and on the Capitoline Hill we 
spent an all-to-brief half day seeing once again 
the bronze wolf of 600 B. C, the Dying Gladiator, 
the Venus and the two or three other exquisite 
works which we specially cared for — then, descend- 
ing a long flight of steps into the Eoman Forum, 
we rambled amid its ruins, observing the arches 
and columns with which we were already familiar, 
and also the shrine of Juturna and the Temple of 
Augustus — both unearthed in 1900, fifteen years 
after my visit of 1885. 

Baedeker says the old Appian Way is .the 
" Queen of Roads,' ' and, in truth, it is a wonder- 
fully interesting and historic highway — but as a 
road for motor cars it is all that a road should not 
be ; the slabs of tufa stone, laid by Appius Claudius 
312 B. C, and worn with deep ruts by the traffic of 
twenty-three centuries, are heaved up here and de- 
pressed there, so that motoring over them is a 
trial and a tribulation. The never-ceasing bumps 
and jolts made us unmindful of the intensely in- 
teresting history that attaches to every mile of 
that road; we forgot all about Caesar and Cicero, 
and Horace and Virgil, and the other great men 
who once traveled over those stones; we paid no 
attention to the tombs which line the road for miles 
out of Rome — we thought only of the terrible jolt- 
ing and jarring we were enduring; and after an 
hour of it, seeing a gate, we opened it, cut across 



Rome and Coast Cities 323 

a field and continued the journey on the new, in- 
stead of the old, Appian Way. 

Even the modern road was rough the first 
twenty-three miles, then at Villetri began not only 
a good road, but a road that for thirty-one miles 
was as straight as an arrow, not a curve or a bend. 
On either side of the road was a row of big trees 
whose boughs almost met overhead, and on both 
sides of that long, straight, green tunnel were the 
low, dank swamps of the Pontine marshes. Ap- 
pius Claudius, constructor of the antique Via Ap- 
pia, attempted to (Jrain those marshes twenty-three 
hundred years ago ; since then many others, from 
Julius Caesar to Pope Pius VI, have worked on the 
problem, but with little success. They are to-day, 
as they have been since the dawn of history, unfit 
for human habitation, impossible for any kind of 
cultivation and even unsafe to stand upon; throw 
a stone out upon the marsh and in the course of a 
short time it will sink deeper and deeper into the 
slimy soil and so disappear forever. The one road 
that traverses the marsh was constructed centu- 
ries ago by dumping a veritable mountain of rock 
into the morass until a long, narrow dike remained 
above the swamp's surface. 

There are no houses or resting-places on that 
dike; the peasants who traverse it start early so 
as to reach its farther end before night; should 
one attempt the passage in the dark it would be 



324 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

easy to fall off the road into the marsh, which 
would mean a disagreeable death, for once in that 
slimy bog no human hand could help you. Of 
course, this reason for an early start did not apply 
to us ; the road was perfectly level and well paved, 
consequently those thirty-one miles were covered 
in exactly one hour, and presently, seventy-five 
miles from Eome, we passed along the base of the 
big limestone rock, seven hundred feet high, upon 
which is perched Terracina. In the Dark Ages, 
when war was the main business of life, the more 
inaccessible and lofty was a peak the more eligible 
it was deemed for a townsite: houses close to- 
gether were cheaper to surround with a wall, and 
towns on precipitous peaks were easier to defend, 
hence it is that in Italy one sees so many towns 
with streets only a few feet wide, stuck up in the 
most lofty and out-of-the-way places. 

Terracina seemed very picturesque to us as we 
sat in the Get-There looking up at it on its lofty 
perch, but we did not climb up to see its Eoman 
ruins; we preferred to push on so as to reach 
Naples before night. A little south of Terracina 
the mountains rise abruptly from the sea. When 
Appius Claudius constructed the road he conducted 
it over the mountains ; some centuries later a shelf 
was blasted out of the face of the precipice, rising 
out of the sea, thus making room for the road at a 
level only a few feet above the Mediterranean. We 



'Rome and Coast Cities 325 

saw on the face of the cliff the letters "C X X" 
carved there by the Eomans to indicate the height 
of the perpendicular wall at that point. Cicero, 
Horace, Tiberius, Nero and a host of others used 
to take this road when they journeyed south from 
Eome ; and before any of them, Hannibal came this 
way and fought here a battle with Fabius 
Maximus. 

Half an hour after leaving Terracina we came to 
Fondi, a town of ten thousand inhabitants, which 
Horace used to visit and where are the ruins of a 
once magnificent castle that four hundred years 
ago was the home of the Countess Giulia Gonzaga. 
Her beauty was so noted throughout Europe that 
the Turkish Sultan longed to possess her and sent 
one of his bravos, Haireddin Barbarossa, to kid- 
nap her. Barbarossa descended one night on the 
coast near Fondi and the beautiful countess nar- 
rowly escaped capture. All that saved her was the 
lofty, inaccessible position of her castle and the 
strength of its massive walls. Barbarossa could 
not batter down those huge blocks of stone, but he 
could and did make the streets of Fondi run red 
with Christian blood ; then he retired to his boats 
and reported to the Sultan that he would have to 
be content without the lovely Giulia. 

For some miles after leaving Fondi our route 
lay in a plain that sloped gently down to the sea, 
then it ascended through mountain ravines to the 



326 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

curious robber town of Itri, where the poet, Tasso, 
was given protection by the robber chief, Marco 
Sciarra ; and where Fra Diavolo was born and won 
such renown as a brigand, that books and operas 
were composed about him. It was at Itri that 
Cicero was murdered in December, 43 B. C. Near 
the town stands to this day the orator's tomb, a 
massive round tower on a square base. 

Thirty-five miles from Itri the Get-There crossed 
the Voltumo River into Capua, where Hannibal 
wintered in 216 B. C, and where a century and a 
half later, in an amphitheatre, which still may be 
seen, Spartacus, by his appeal to his fellow-gladia- 
tors to cease butchering one another to make a 
Roman holiday, began the Servile War, which came 
so near putting a period to the empire of Rome. 
We paused in Capua long enough to see this am- 
phitheatre and to stand on the spot where Spar- 
tacus fought, then we hurried on to Naples, arriv- 
ing there early in the afternoon, nine hours out 
from Rome. The distance traveled from Rome 
was one hundred and sixty-four miles, and the 
amount of gasoline used on the day's run was ex- 
actly eleven gallons. We bought that gasoline just 
outside the gates of Rome for $5.50 (fifty cents a 
gallon) ; the oil used in making that run cost less 
than twenty cents, consequently the trip from 
Rome to Naples, for two persons, with a lot of 



Rome and Coast Cities 327 

luggage, cost about $5.70. The railroad fare for 
one person is twenty-nine lire ($5.80). 

From Naples we made an interesting excursion 
to Bacoli, the ancient Bauli. Starting from our 
hotel on the Santa Lucia, the Get-There ascended 
the Strada Nuova di Posilipo, a fine road built 
when Murat was King of Naples, now lined with 
beautiful gardens and villas; pretty soon we 
reached a height commanding a superb view of 
Naples and its beautiful bay. Descending the 
southern slope of this height we crossed a level 
plain to Pozzuoli, where St. Paul stopped a week 
when he traveled that way in the year 62. Poz- 
zuoli has two things worth seeing, the Eoman Am- 
phitheatre and the Serapeum, with Corinthian 
marble columns perforated by a thousand little 
holes bored into the marble by tiny shellfish. 
These two sights, however, are easily seen in an 
hour, so our stay in Pozzuoli was not as long as 
St. Paul's. 

Two hours after leaving Naples the Get-There 
halted on the top of a hill south of Bauli, on the 
promontory where Agrippina, Nero's mother, lived 
and where, in March, 59, she was murdered by her 
unnatural son. One of Nero's servile courtiers 
devised the murder plan. His name was Anicetus. 
This villain proposed that Agrippina be invited to 
make a voyage in a ship formed in such a way that 



328 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

in the open sea part of it might give way and 
plunge her into the sea. The ocean, he told Nero, 

"was the element of disasters, and if the vessel foundered, 
malignity itself could not convert into a crime what would 
appear to be the effect of adverse winds and boisterous waves. 
After her decease the emperor would have nothing to do but 
to raise a temple to her memory. Altars and public monu- 
ments would be proof of filial piety!" 

A fine scheme, but it failed, as we read in Taci- 
tus while sitting there on that hill looking down 
on the Gulf of Pozzuoli, on the very waters where 
the monstrous crime was committed. 



"The night was calm and serene, the stars shot forth their 
brightest luster, and the sea presented a smooth expanse. 
Agrippina went on board, attended by two servants. One of 
them, Creperius Gallus, took his place near the rudder; the 
other, a female attendant named Aceronia, stretched herself 
at the foot of her mistress' bed. The vessel had made but 
little way, when, on a signal given, the deck over Agrippina's 
cabin fell in. Being loaded with lead, Creperius was crushed 
under the weight, but the props of the bedroom bore up the 
load, and saved both Agrippina and her maid. Nor did the 
vessel, as was intended, fall to pieces at once. Consternation, 
hurry and confusion followed. . . . Aceronia, in her fright, 
called herself Agrippina, and implored the sailors to save the 
emperor's mother. Whereupon, thinking she was Agrippina, 
the assassins fell upon her with their oars, and she died under 
repeated blows. Agrippina, seeing this, and divining now the 
plot for her destruction, leaped into the sea, and swam until 
small boats put off from shore and conveyed her to her own 
villa. She now understood the plot, but thought it best to 
temporize, and sent a message to inform her son that by the 
favor of the gods, and the good auspices of the emperor, she 
had escaped from a shipwreck!" 



Rome and Coast Cities 329 

The ruse failed; Nero's reply was conveyed by 
Anicetus, who had planned the shipwreck, and 
when Agrippina saw him enter her bed-chamber, 
sword in hand, she knew that her end had come. 

i ' Look ! ' ' she cried, opening her dress. ' ' Plunge 
your sword in the womb which gave birth to him 
who sent you here•! ,, 

A moment later she expired under a number of 
mortal wounds. Every schoolboy has read this 
story ; we had read it many times, but never before 
had the story seemed so vivid, so real, so close to 
us as it did when we re-read it on that hill over- 
looking the waters where Anicetus' ship was 
scuttled, and on the very spot where Agrippina 
was killed. A passage with a vaulted ceiling on 
the coast at the base of the hill has been known 
for centuries as Agrippina 's tomb; a footnote in 
our edition of Tacitus says this vaulted passage is 
her tomb. But Baedeker, inconoclastic as he is 
terse, dismisses the subject with this line: 

"What is commonly called the Tomb of Agrippina, a semi- 
circular passage with vaulted ceiling, is really the ruins of 
a small theatre." 

Baedeker does not condescend to give his author- 
ity for thus shattering the traditions of centuries, 
and he may be wrong ; but even if he is right, even 
if the vaulted passage is not Agrippina 's tomb, not 
even Baedeker can rob that hill of the associations 



330 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

which have lingered there for eighteen hundred 
years, consequently the trip thither may be recom- 
mended to any one who enjoys seeing a spot rich 
alike in scenic beauty and in rare historical 
memories. 

Another excursion we made was south along the 
coast to Salerno. The first ten miles through 
Naples' dirty streets was interesting rather than 
agreeable, for the pavement was bad and the traffic 
was so great that the Get-There had to creep along 
at about ten miles an hour. But after passing 
through Portici and Torre del Greco there were 
fewer wagons and carts; and when Castellamare 
was left behind us the Get-There suddenly emerged 
from the twenty miles of dirty, ill-smelling streets 
upon a road which made us glad we were living — 
it was so finely built in a setting so superbly 
beautiful. 

For awhile that road wound in and out along 
the base of a mountain close to the sea and near 
its level; then it began to ascend to a rocky emi- 
nence nearly a thousand feet above the Mediterra- 
nean ; from that eminence we looked down on lovely 
Sorrento nestling in green groves of orange and 
lemon and fig trees. And beyond Sorrento we saw 
Capri's enormous hump rising a sheer two thou- 
sand feet out of the sea. Looking backward from 
that eminence we beheld the Bay of Naples lined 
for twenty miles with a vast human hive ; its dirt, 



Rome and Coast Cities 331 

its squalor, its pitiful poverty, from that distance 
was not visible. We saw only the beauties of the 
scene, the bright-colored walls, the red-tiled roofs, 
the stately palaces, the occasional green of parks 
and gardens. In the foreground of this unrivaled 
panorama stood Vesuvius, sullen, glowering, 
clouds of fire and smoke belching forth from its 
crater. If there is anywhere in the world a finer 
view than this we have not had the good fortune 
to see it. 

Descending that rocky eminence and passing 
through the little town of Meta, we turned to the 
right a mile before reaching Sorrento and put up 
at the Albergo Cocumella, a rambling structure 
which was once a monastery, but which, in the mid- 
dle of the last century, was converted into an inn. 
The Cocumella stands a quarter of a mile from the 
main road in an orange grove on a high bluff over- 
hanging the sea; on account of its isolated posi- 
tion and charming surroundings this inn has been 
a favorite resting-place with me on each of my half 
dozen or more trips to southern Italy. On my first 
visit, twenty-five years ago, full " pension' ' at the 
Cocumella cost $1.20 a day ; the price now is $1.50. 
This thirty cents a day increase in a quarter of a 
century seems most modest to those who know how 
good, if plain, is the service of that old-fashioned 
Albergo, how delightful it is to pluck the golden 
fruit in its garden and drink the juice of the fully 



332 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

ripened oranges while seated on the bluff looking 
out on Sorrento and Capri and the Bay of Naples. 

Then, too, there is Vincenzo! Vincenzo, head- 
waiter of the Cocumella, has becomes veritable in- 
stitution ; how long he has been there no one seems 
to know. When I saw him there in 1885 he looked 
about as he looks now — not so gray, then, and per- 
haps less stoop in the shoulders. But the eye is the 
same and he has the same soft, suave manner which 
has pleased two generations of travelers. We re- 
mained several days at the Cocumella and each 
morning Vincenzo tapped softly on our door and 
inquired if monsieur and madame cared for some 
oranges fresh from the garden, and if they would 
breakfast in bed or on the veranda, in view of Ve- 
suvius and Naples? Then, when the Get-There 
started on a day's jaunt, Vincenzo filled our basket 
with an appetizing lunch and the Thermos bottles 
with wine and water and hot chocolate. 

One morning we drove to Amain and Salerno, 
seventy-two miles there and back, over that cele- 
brated road which for boldness of engineering and 
grandeur of scenery is unsurpassed in Europe. 

Another morning we ran over to Pompeii to see 
the new discoveries which have been unearthed 
since my first visit, twenty-five years ago. Of late 
the Italian Government has appropriated large 
sums for the excavation of the buried city, and 
modern methods have hastened and facilitated the 



Rome and Coast Cities 333 

work ; a house, a street, a quarter of the city is now 
uncovered in half the time formerly required. 
Not many more years will elapse before the entire 
place will have been bared to the gaze of mankind, 
a mute and a melancholy picture of another age 
and another world. 

We saw whole streets which, in 1885, had not yet 
been stripped of their superincumbent mass of 
lava; and the contents of some of the houses on 
these streets, unlike those of the first houses un- 
covered, were not removed to Naples, but were left 
on the scene of their discovery. The sight of these 
houses standing just as their occupants left them 
brings back the home life, the family life of the 
ancient Pompeiians in a very intimate way, indeed. 
To one who knows the Eomans only by books, they 
seem almost like myths, like people of romance or 
fable ; but they become real when you enter their 
homes and see their tables and beds and even their 
ovens with loaves of bread, burned a bit, but bread 
that is otherwise as if it might have been placed in 
those ovens last night instead of a night eighteen 
hundred years ago. On the wall over a bed in the 
room of a house we saw a name scribbled — care- 
lessly scribbled as a boy scrawls his name on a 
fence, but although the writing was as fresh as if 
done the day before, the boy who wrote his name 
on that Pompeii wall, if alive to-day, would be 
eighteen hundred years old. 



334 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Near the house with the name scribbled on the 
wall we went to the temple where, in the days when 
Borne was mistress of the world, the priests of 
Isis used to hide in a cavern and speak through a 
tube that led up from the cavern to the lips of an 
oracle in the temple. The Pompeiians, ignorant 
of the hidden priests, thought the voice was the 
oracle's and so paid it a respect which was as little 
deserved as some great names and reputations to- 
day deserve the respect paid them by modern 
courtiers. 

Twenty-five years ago I concealed myself in this 
cavern beneath Isis' temple, intending to remain 
there until midnight so I might see Pompeii by 
moonlight, but the guards found my hiding-place, 
with the result that I spent the night in jail in- 
stead of in Pompeii. On our last visit I again 
crawled into this cavern and found on the floor, 
where the priests of Isis used to hide, an excellent 
fountain-pen filled with ink ready to write. A 
stylus and a wax tablet would have helped my im- 
agination to people that cavern with wily priests 
and the temple above with deluded worshippers — 
but a fountain-pen and fresh ink! They were as 
little in keeping with Pompeii as was the Get-There 
waiting for us just outside the dead city's gates. 
In Pompeii most things are to-day as they were 
yesterday, and as they were a million other yester- 
days. The streets are silent and deserted; the airy 



Rome and Coast Cities 335 

frescoes on temple and villa walls look down upon 
tenantless rooms, upon empty courts, upon marble 
fountains that have not known water for nigh a 
score of centuries. 

The groove in the stone rim of yonder well was 
worn by ropes that drew water there centuries ago ; 
the rut in that stone flagging was made by cart- 
wheels going to market, or by chariots going to the 
Forum, in an age when Germany was a wilderness, 
when England had yet to feel the tread of Caesar's 
legions, when Columbus and America lay unborn 
in the womb of Time by more than eighteen cen- 
turies. I saw the groove in that well coping, the 
rut in that stone flagging when I was in Pompeii 
twenty-five years ago. I saw them again on our 
recent visit; and doubtless a thousand years hence 
they will still be there, no deeper, no different from 
to-day, or from that other day when Vesuvius put 
a period for all time to the drawing of water from 
that well, to the rolling of chariot-wheels over that 
stony street ! 

One of the most recently discovered villas in 
Pompeii, the Casa dei Vettii, is also the most beau- 
tifully preserved. Its paintings and marble deco- 
rations have been left on the walls and pedestals 
just where they were placed in the beginning ; the 
peristyle is embellished now, as it was then, with 
numerous statues from which jets of water once 
spouted into marble basins. And opening from the 



336 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

peristyle are the bed-chambers, kitchen and large 
dining-room with walls adorned by wonderfully 
fresh and well-designed frescoes. All this brought 
back the dead past so close, made it seem so real 
that we were loth to leave ; so we sat on a bench in 
the atrium of the Casa dei Vettii to rest and to 
dream of the past and to wonder what manner of 
men and women had once lived and loved, and per- 
haps hated, in that stately mansion. Not until 
the guards came to us and told us the dead city's 
gates were about to be locked did we awake from 
our dream and go back to our automobile, waiting 
without the walls, and start on the return ride to 
the Hotel Cocumella. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

Practical hints about motoring abroad. — How to ship an auto- 
mobile.— Cost of shipping.— Expenses. — Description of the 
Get-There.— We ship it from Naples to New York. 

rpHE notion that an automobile journey abroad 
is strictly a millionaire's sport is largely 
due to the fact that, until lately at least, Americans 
who have taken their cars to Europe have been rich 
men who cared little for expense and paid without 
question any bill their chauffeurs presented. Now, 
quite apart from his salary, a chauffeur is an ex- 
pensive luxury, for even if he does not "graft," 
landlords, garage keepers and repair men think, of 
course, that that is what he is in business for, and 
they fix their prices accordingly — that is, high 
enough to cover the commissions which the chauf- 
feur too often exacts as the price of his patronage. 
In European garages, where the man with a 
chauffeur paid eighty centimes the liter for gaso- 
line, the price to me was only fifty centimes — this 
because I made it plain that in my case there was 
no ' l rake off' ' ; that I was not only paying the bills, 
but that the money came out of my own pocket. 

337 



338 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

On a long trip, where a thousand liters of gasoline 
may be required, the saving on this one item is con- 
siderable. If your chauffeur happens to be dis- 
honest there will be other items more important 
than the gasoline ; tire and repair bills will mount 
up in a most astonishing fashion, because more 
tires and more repairs mean more commissions to 
the chauffeur. Here is an illustration of this: 
needing two anti-skid tires for the Get-There 's 
rear wheels, I walked into the Michelin depot at 
Grenoble and inquired as to prices. Our wheels 
were 32 inches by 4 inches, equivalent in the met- 
ric measurement to 815 x 105. 

"Ah, that size, Monsieur, costs two hundred and 
five francs.' ' 

"To the owner, yes; but to the chauffeur V 9 I 
said. ' ' What is your price to the chauffeur 1 9 ' 

"Oh, Monsieur is the chauffeur? That alters the 
case. To the chauffeur the price is one hundred 
and ninety francs." 

I bought the two tires and saved in this one in- 
stance thirty francs ($6.00), because I was my own 
chauffeur. Friends who had motored abroad with 
chauffeurs assured us the expense was enormous, 
at least $800. a month, and that even that sum 
would be exceeded if, as was likely, anything went 
wrong and repairs were needed. Had we heeded 
these friends our trip would not have been taken, 
for such expense was wholly beyond our means. 



Hints for Motorists 339 

Fortunately, we decided to see for ourselves if the 
thing might not be done at more moderate cost, 
and we found it could be by taking a little trouble, 
by not paying whatever charges people demanded, 
and by finding out the best and the most reasonable 
people with whom to deal. For instance, a well- 
known express company quoted us the following 
cost of shipping our automobile from New York 
to Havre : 

Box, and labor of putting automobile in box $60.00 

Hauling box to steamer in New York 10.00 

Freight @ 21c. per cubic foot, on 520 cubic feet 109.20 

Derrick for lifting box into steamer 12.00 

Commission on bill of lading 10.00 

Total proposed cost of boxing automobile and carry- 
ing it from New York to Havre $201.20 

At the expense of a little time and of a few post- 
age stamps, writing letters and getting prices from 
other forwarding agents, these prices were reduced 
as follows : 

Box, and labor of putting automobile into box $40.00 

Hauling box to steamer 6.00 

Freight @ 13c. per cubic foot 67.60 

Derrick and bill of lading — no charge. 



Amount actually paid $113.60 

Amount quoted by express company 201.20 

Amount saved $87.60 



340 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

This $87.60 was saved because we did not take 
it for granted that express companies and steam- 
ship companies have fixed prices, and that conse- 
quently it was not necessary to bargain with them. 
The same steamship company which first de- 
manded twenty-one cents per cubic foot finally 
took our automobile on the same steamer for thir- 
teen cents per cubic foot. After several similar 
experiences we came to the conclusion that it is 
well to bargain in almost everything, except pos- 
sibly in buying stamps at the post-office. "When 
we wrote to a forwarding agent in Naples, the cost 
of shipping the Get-There from that port to New 
York was excessive. Forty dollars was charged 
for a barge and derrick; fifteen dollars was de- 
manded for putting the automobile in its box. The 
freight bill was six hundred lire. The total ex- 
pense was $222. And we were assured these 
charges could not possibly be lessened ; that Naples 
was a difficult port for automobiles. But when we 
arrived in Naples and personally got prices, not 
from an agency catering to tourists, but from reg- 
ular shippers, we found the figures quoted us were 
more than twice as much as we needed to pay. As 
transportation is the main expense of a motor trip 
through Europe, it may be interesting to summa- 
rize it here : 



Hints for Motorists 341 

New York to Havre, including cost of box $113.60 

Havre broker, for customs formalities, unboxing auto- 
mobile, and putting box in storehouse, Havre 10.00 

Same broker, for storage of box, and freight on box 

to Naples 23.20 

Labor of boxing automobile and loading on steamer 
at Naples, freight to New York, and unloading on 
pier in New York 78.00 

Broker to pass automobile through New York customs 10.00 

Total cost of boxing automobile and carrying it 
from New York back to New York, via Havre 
and Naples $234.80 



The last item, about the New York broker, may 
seem unnecessary; it seemed so to us until experi- 
ence showed the contrary. Why pay a broker to 
get an American car through an American custom 
house? Ought it not to be a simple and an easy 
matter to show that your automobile is home-made, 
hence not subject to duty? It ought to be, but it 
isn't. Even though we had taken the precaution 
to secure from the American Consul at Naples a 
declaration certifying the American make of our 
machine, when we landed at New York the customs 
officers wore an air that plainly said: "You are 
smugglers until the contrary be proven!" 

The American make of the Get-There was pat- 
ent; it was manufactured within thirty miles of 
that New York custom house. Ah, yes, that was 
plain enough, but how could one know whether it 
had been repaired while in Europe! 



342 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

"What if it has been repaired?' ' we asked. 
"What difference does that make?" 

"If it has been repaired, and if the repairs cost 
as much as ten per cent, of the cost of the automo- 
bile, your car will be subject to duty," replied the 
customs officer. 

Aside from a new set of tires and a re-lined 
brake the dear old Get-There was innocent of any 
repairs — a fact which we finally demonstrated to 
the customs people. But it was not until three 
days had elapsed, seeing first one official, then an- 
other, and until we had sworn to half a dozen dif- 
ferent kinds of documents, that we were allowed to 
climb into our automobile and drive away from the 
steamship pier. Altogether, we think the New 
York broker earned that ten dollars. 

Knowing the size of your automobile does not 
mean that you can accurately estimate its cubic 
feet after it has been boxed. The wheels must be 
jacked up so that the car is supported on its axles ; 
the axles rest on blocks. This adds to the box's 
height. Its length and width are also greater than 
that of the automobile inside. Before you can tell 
the amount of your freight bill you must know the 
box's dimensions. This may be approximated by 
comparing with our experience: the Get-There 's 
wheel base was oue hundred and five inches, its 
over-all length was one hundred and fifty inches, 
its height was sixty-two inches, its width was sixty- 



Hints for Motorists 343 

five inches — in all, three hundred and fifty cubic 
feet. But the box into which it was put was one 
hundred and fifty-two inches long, seventy-four 
inches wide and eighty inches high ; in all, five hun- 
dred and twenty cubic feet. Consequently, the 
freight, at thirteen cents a cubic foot, cost $67.60, 
instead of $45.50, which the cost would have been 
were only the size of the car itself considered. 

To English ports, especially from Boston, 
freight rates are cheaper than to Havre or to other 
Continental places. On one line from Boston to 
London the rate quoted us was ten cents per cubic 
foot, less than half the twenty-one-cent rate 
charged by express boats to Havre. 

To summarize this question of the cost of getting 
an automobile abroad it may be said that an hun- 
dred-and-five-inch wheel base means five hundred 
and twenty cubic feet boxed, which means a freight 
bill of $52 if you are not in a hurry and are going 
to London ; $67.60 if you are going to Havre on a 
nine-day boat, or $109.20 if you go in a six-day 
boat. Boxing and hauling to the steamer in New 
York costs $48, consequently the entire expense of 
landing your machine on the other side will be: 
to London, $100; to Havre, by nine-day boat, 
$115.60; by six-day boat, $157.20. In returning 
home the same box may be used, saving $40 (less a 
trifle for storage). These figures are for touring 
cars. For limousines, or for cars whose height is 



344 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

unusually great, a larger box is needed, which, of 
course, means more expense both for the box and 
for ocean freight. 

Before leaving home we considered the question 
of renting a machine abroad ; some do this, and it 
is a good plan, providing your trip is confined to 
one country and does not last longer than two or 
three weeks. On a long trip it is more economical, 
as well as more enjoyable, to take your own car. 
If you rent an automobile you must be content with 
such machines as you find for hire, be they good, 
bad or indifferent; moreover, you must accept 
many limitations and restrictions. The rental cost 
of the cheapest automobile is twenty dollars a day ; 
a good car costs twenty-five to thirty-five dollars a 
day: and if you travel more than a specified dis- 
tance per day, usually seventy-five miles, an extra 
charge per kilometer is made — at best, an expen- 
sive and unsatisfactory arrangement. Just how 
expensive it is you won't know until the trip is 
over, and you learn if a law-suit is necessary to 
settle the differences which will arise between what 
you think you owe and what the chauffeur thinks 
you owe. 

Such disputes do not arise if you take your own 
car ; and if your trip lasts thirty days or more the 
big expense of boxing and shipping across the 
ocean will be spread so thin over so many days as 
to make the daily average reasonably low. We 



Hints for Motorists 345 

landed in Havre on July 12th and shipped the Get- 
There to New York from Naples on October 19th, 
exactly one hundred days, during which we mo- 
tored five thousand and eighty miles. Had we 
rented even the cheapest automobile it would have 
cost us twenty dollars a day, or two thousand dol- 
lars for the hundred days; and to this, ten days 
more would have been added to allow for the au- 
tomobile's return to France. 

How does this minimum cost of $2,200 for a 
rented automobile compare with the cost of taking 
your own car abroad? 

The amount spent on the Get-There, from the 
moment it was taken to the carpenter's in New 
York to be boxed, to the moment after its arrival 
in New York from Europe, was $528.67. This cov- 
ered boxing, ocean freight both ways, repairs, tires, 
oil, gasoline — everything except depreciation of 
the automobile. As far as we could see the Get- 
There 's motor ran as sweetly and as smoothly that 
last day at Naples as it did the day it was bought, 
new, at the New York factory. But even if we al- 
low 50 per cent, for depreciation the balance will 
still be in favor of taking one's own car as against 
renting a car abroad. The Get-There cost $1,750 ; 
50 per cent, thereof, $875, added to the $528.67 
makes a total of $1,403.67— $800 less than would 
have been the rental cost of even a second-class 
machine. But while at a forced sale our automo- 



346 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

bile might not have brought at the end of the trip 
more than half what it cost when new, to ns it was 
as good then as it was the first day we got it. 

But, apart from the mere matter of dollars, con- 
sider the joy of driving! If sitting at the wheel 
be to you no joy, then accept it as true that you are 
not meant for a motorist ; that any long trip would 
bore you. As for us, even were it less expensive to 
rent an automobile we would not do it, because we 
know that that would mean the constant company 
of a hired man who alone would be permitted to do 
the driving ; and driving your own machine is two- 
thirds of the sport of automobiling. But, as has 
been shown, for an extended trip it is more, not 
less, expensive to rent an automobile abroad. A 
summary of the expenses we incurred with the Get- 
There will enable the reader to estimate the prob- 
able cost of a similar journey: 

COST OF MOTOR TRIP 

From Havre to Naples, via Germany, Switzerland, etc., 5,080 

miles. July 12 to October 19 (one hundred days). 

(The franc reckoned at 19% cents, the mark at 24 cents.) 

Gasoline, 381 gallons $129:62 

Cylinder oil, 9 gallons 7.39 

Heavy oil, iy 2 gallons 1.22 

Cup grease, 3*4 lbs .55 

Repairing brakes, burned in descending Swiss passes 9.56 
Renewing two rear tires, 32x4 in. (Michelin "anti- 
skids," @ 190 francs each) 74.10 

Renewing two front tires, same size, 137.25 francs 

each 53.53 



Carried forward $275.97 



Hints for Motorists 347 

Brought forward $275.97 

Garage, storing automobile, 91 francs 17.75 

Garage, washing automobile (three times) 1.76 

Total "running" expenses, 1,515 francs $295.48 

Cost of shipping automobile from New York to 

New York, via Havre and Naples 234.80 

Total cost of taking automobile to Europe, using it 
one hundred days, over 5,080 miles of roads, and 

landing it back in New York again $530.28 

Average cost per day 5.30 

Average cost per mile .1056 

Average number of miles per gallon of gasoline 13.17 

Nearly everywhere in France, and in many 
places in the other countries we visited, there are 
hotels which care for automobiles gratis. Where 
this service is not free the charge is small, usually 
only two francs, or, at most, three francs per day : 
this is why our garage bill for the entire hundred 
days was only $17.75. The bill for washing was 
small, for the simple reason that we had the Get- 
There cleaned only three times on the whole trip. 
Why wash or polish an automobile on a cross- 
country trip, when half an hour after leaving the 
garage dust or rain will make your car look pre- 
cisely as travel-stained as it did before it was 
polished? Moreover, in strange garages acid 
soaps are sometimes used and damage to the 
paint may be done. On the whole, we feel we did 
well in more ways than financially when we kept 
the washing and polishing bill down to $1.76. 



348 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

We found gasoline everywhere, even on the road- 
side in peasants' houses; it cost more than in 
America, but it did not cost nearly as much as we 
had been led to believe. Friends who had mo- 
tored with chauffeurs told us we would have to pay 
from fifty cents to a dollar a gallon ; what we actu- 
ally paid was $129.62 for three hundred and eighty- 
one gallons, an average of thirty-four cents per 
gallon. And even this low average would have 
been lessened had we not gone into Paris and to 
Italy, where the price of gasoline is considerably 
higher than it is elsewhere. By countries, our con- 
sumption of gasoline was as follows : 

France ... 184 gallons, cost $60.27 (32.70 cents per gallon). 

Germany.., 73 " " 24.14 (33.06 " " " ). 

Switzerland 60 " " 18.88 (31.46 " " " ). 

Italy 64 " " 26.35 (41.17 " " " ). 

Total .. 381 " " $129.64 (34.00 " " " ). 

Despite this favorable financial showing we 
would not be so decidedly in favor of taking our 
own automobile abroad, rather than renting one in 
Europe, had not our journey been so free of mis- 
haps and troubles. To sit at the steering-wheel, 
guiding by a mere touch of the hand a beautiful 
red car, sending it speeding over perfect roads 
amid strange and interesting surroundings, the 
soft air of summer in your face — that is delightful. 

It is not delightful always to have on hand some 
disagreeable work, such as fixing tires, fooling with 



Hints for Motorists 349 

spark plugs or trying to make a balky motor run. 
That we were free from such afflictions may have 
been partly due to luck, but more likely it was due 
to the fact that the Get-There was wisely chosen. 
Some tourists whose cars cost three times as much 
as our modest two-seated roadster had three times 
as much trouble. An American with a four-thou- 
sand-dollar car got as far as Switzerland, then he 
had to go to a repair shop in Lucerne, where it took 
so long to get things in shape that finally the Amer- 
ican became disgusted and returned to Paris by 
rail. Doubtless this man's major misfortune was 
his chauffeur, but with a big car a chauffeur is al- 
most a necessity. A mechanic's entire time is apt 
to be occupied in adjusting, oiling and keeping a 
big automobile in good condition. No, I should not 
venture on a cross-country trip in a big automobile. 
But our Maxwell was so simple, so near fool-proof 
that during the whole journey it never got out of 
order; not even a bolt had to be tightened or a 
screw turned. Apart from keeping the gas and oil 
tanks filled and oiling the axles — an operation per- 
formed in five minutes each morning — there was 
nothing to do except enjoy the swift motion and the 
varied panorama that was ever unfolding be- 
fore us. 

Under the folding seat in the rear of the Get- 
There was stored a box of duplicate parts of the 
motor; in case of trouble these parts would have 



350 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

been most useful ; but as trouble did not come, on 
returning to New York the box was expressed to 
the factory at Tarrytown without our having ever 
opened it. The valve stems of foreign inner tubes 
are larger than those of American tubes, hence it 
is necessary to have the holes in the wheel rims of 
an American car enlarged, if foreign inner tubes 
are to be used. This was done to the Get-There in 
advance, thereby sparing us the annoyance which 
was the lot of an American whom we saw ma- 
rooned on the roadside with several tubes of 
French and German make ; the valve stems of those 
foreign tubes were too large to go through the 
holes in his wheel rims. The American had to wait 
until a mechanic arrived with tools capable of en- 
larging the openings in the steel rims. 

Another item the mention of which may save the 
motorist annoyance is this : carry a collapsible rub- 
ber bucket under your seat. Such a bucket will 
enable you to fill your radiator from springs or 
streams without having to hunt for a peasant to 
loan you a bucket. "We also found very service- 
able a half-dozen pairs of canvas gloves which we 
bought at a New York department store for ten 
cents a pair ; such gloves are not to be had at any 
price in Europe. They are made of stout cotton 
cloth and protect the hands when doing the rough 
work of motoring, such as putting on tires and oil- 
ing the axles. Even the ordinary chauffeur's 



Hints for Motorists 351 

glove, with gauntlets, is hard to find abroad; we 
inquired at a number of stores in Paris without 
finding them. It is therefore advisable to supply 
yourself in this regard before leaving New York. 
And, of course, as has already been intimated, sum- 
mer in Europe is not as hot as in the United States, 
consequently wraps must be kept close at hand 
even in July and August. 

Some motorists whom we met carried an assort- 
ment of guidebooks and maps ; this is a mistake, 
which means not only that you burden yourself 
with an unnecessary load, but also that you will 
waste a lot of time studying intricate maps that 
will do you little good. All that is really needed is 
one large map of Europe (that of Dr. Wood Mc- 
Murtry shows automobile roads and distances), 
and one copy of the "Continental" Guide, a book 
published by the makers of the tires of that name; 
it contains an itinerary for almost every trip you 
are at all likely to care to take. The distance be- 
tween each town on the route is shown, also a list 
of hotels in each town, the condition of the road, 
etc. If for any special reason a detailed road map 
is desired the "Carte Eoutiere de Dion-Bouton," 
costing one franc, three francs on linen, will an- 
swer every purpose. It is a mistake to overload 
with guides and maps and spend time poring over 
them, when sign-posts are everywhere and a mere 



352 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

glance at them will tell you if you are on the right 
way. 

Automobile insurance is expensive ; for that rea- 
son, also because I drive my own car and do so 
with caution, no policy was taken out on the Get- 
There. If you have a chauffeur, or if you do not 
feel confidence in your ability to drive with cool- 
ness, whether on the brink of a stupendous preci- 
pice in the Alps, or in the congested traffic of a 
Paris boulevard, by all means carry ample insur- 
ance, regardless of its cost ; the loss of nerve at a 
critical moment may cause the driver of an auto- 
mobile to smash his machine or to run into some 
one, in which event it would be at least some con- 
solation to know that an insurance company will 
pay for the damage. I have had three different 
cars during the past five years and have driven 
them many thousand miles on long, cross-country 
trips, and thus far have not had a single accident — 
because, as I believe, I have exercised a little 
common sense and caution; unfortunately, many 
persons become reckless and daring when the steer- 
ing-wheel of a powerful motor gets in their hands. 
It is to such persons that most accidents occur. 
Insurance premiums are made high enough to 
cover these reckless drivers; premiums are too 
high to cover the lesser risk of a cautious driver. 

In touring Switzerland be sure your brakes are 
in first-class condition ; also your motor, for if the 



Hints for Motorists 353 

motor should suddenly stop while climbing a steep 
grade the consequences might be serious. To pre- 
vent rolling backward down mountains, in the 
event of such a mishap, I had the Get- There 
equipped with a steel rod pivoted at the upper end 
on the right side of the rear axle ; a chain fastened 
to this rod at a point six inches from its end was 
brought along the chassis up through the footboard 
in front of the driver's seat and there it was sus- 
pended on a hook, within easy reach. By lifting 
this chain from its hook and letting it fall, the end 
of the steel rod under the rear axle is caused to 
drop to the ground, so that should the automobile 
start backward the rod digs into the ground and 
prevents it from moving. Not once did the Get- 
There 's motor fail us, except that one time on the 
Grande Chartreuse, when the gasoline gave out, 
hence our sprag proved superfluous. But it was 
not in the way, and the knowledge that it was there 
in case trouble did come was a comforting thought 
as we scaled the higher Alpine passes. 

To avoid the nuisance of carrying a pocketful 
of keys, it is a good idea to have the manufacturer 
furnish half a dozen small Yale locks, all opened 
by the same key. In this way tool-box, hood, trunk, 
suit-case, etc. — all may be unlocked without your 
having to fish around in your pockets to find the 
particular key wanted. Another small but useful 
thing is a pocket electric searchlight ; on the road 



354* Seeing Europe by Automobile 



at niglit, also at small hotels where candles were 
the only means of illumination, our little search- 
light was well-nigh indispensable. 

The things used in and about automobiles have 
names not always recognized by a foreigner; we 
learned the French equivalent for some of these 
things. As this proved useful I shall give a short 
list of them. 

ABOUT LAMPS: 

Lamps Les lampes. 

Oil lamps Les lampes a huile. 

Gas lamps Les phares a acetylene. 

Wick La meche. 

Burner La papillon. 

Coal oil (kerosene) Huile a bruler. 

ABOUT THE MOTOR: 

The hood Le capot. 

Transmission case Boite de transmission. 

Speed levers Les leviers de changement de 

vitesse. 

The accelerator L'accelerateur. 

Oil pipe La courroie de transmission. 

Valve La soupape. 

Spark plug La bougie. 

Steering wheel Volant de direction. 

Hand brake Le frein a main. 

Foot brake Le frein a pied. 

Radiator Le radiateur. 

Fan Le ventilateur. 

Crank La manivelle. 

Turn the crank; crank up..Tournez la manivelle. 

ABOUT THE WHEELS AND TIRES: 

Spring Le ressort. 

Axle L'essieu. 

Rim of wheel Bord de la roue. 

Wheel La Roue. 



Hints for Motorists 355 

Tire (outer case) Le pneumatique, l'enveloppe. 

Inner tube Chambre a air. 

Puncture La crevaison. 

Deflate Pegonfler. 

Inflate Gonfler. 

Demount Demonter. 

Rubber liquid (for repairing 

punctures) Dissolution. 

Brush (for applying rubber 

liquid) Une brosse. 

Sandpaper Papier de verre. 

ABOUT THE TOP: 

The top La capotte. 

The seat Le siege. 

The cushion Le coussin. 

TOOLS: 

Tools Les outils. 

Screw La vis. 

Screw-driver Le tournevis. 

Nut L'ecrou. 

Jack Le jack. 

Hammer Le marteau. 

Wrench La cle. 

Monkey wrench La cle Anglaise. 

Pump La pompe. 

The pump won't work La pompe ne marche pas. 

Gasoline tank Reservoir a essence. 

Oil tank Reservoir a huile. 

ABOUT THE BATTERY: 

Battery La pile electrique. 

Storage battery Un accumulateur. 

Dry cell La pile seche. 

Battery wire Fil d'allumage. 

Magneto Le magneto. 

Wire Le Fil. 

Coil La bobine. 

Wire that connects the com- 
mutator with the coil Le fil qui relie le commutateur 

a la bobine. 



356 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

This French may seem a little out of gear ac- 
cording to grammars and dictionaries, but the 
words given above are used around garages and 
will serve the motorist better than correct terms 
chosen from the books. 

Motoring in Europe is now so common, posses- 
sion of an automobile no longer creates the as- 
sumption that you are a millionaire who may be 
charged extravagant prices; hotelkeepers com- 
pete for motorists ' patronage. If you want luxuri- 
ous quarters they are usually to be had, but if you 
are content with mere comfort and cleanliness and 
plain but good food, these can be had at moderate 
prices. Sometimes our bill for lodging and meals 
did not exceed $1.50 a day each, with no charge for 
storing the Get-There. And on the whole trip (ex- 
cluding Paris and one or two other large cities) 
the average was a trifle less than $4 a day for the 
two of us. As the automobile expense, including 
ocean freight, tires, supplies and repairs, was 
$5.28 per day, it will be seen that you may pay for 
carrying an automobile to Europe and back, pay 
for the automobile's running, repairs and new 
tires, settle all hotel bills for yourself and wife, 
and be out of pocket a fraction less than ten dollars 
a day ; and for this you can ride over five thousand 
miles of the finest roads in the world, amid the 
world's most interesting and historic scenes. 

A European trip of any kind is instructive as 



Hints for Motorists 357 

well as enjoyable, but a European trip in a motor 
car is more than this: it is a keen delight from 
start to finish. If you are the owner of an auto- 
mobile, and have a thousand dollars to spend on a 
trip, the best way in the world to pass the sum- 
mer will be to do as the owner of the Get-There 
did — take your wife and automobile to Europe and 
motor from Havre to Naples. 



CHAPTER XIX 

The column in Brindisi, at the end of the Appian Way.— 
Across the Adriatic to Corfu. — Byron's statue. — The poet of 
democracy. — We drive across the island. — Along the Al- 
banian and Dalmatian shores. — Spalato, where Diocletian 
raised cabbages. — Ragusa and its picturesque people. 

f N shipping an automobile across seas one must 
A take care to block the wheels, protect the 
lamps and fasten tight all movable parts, so that 
damage may not occur no matter how topsy-turvy 
the crate may be turned on its way in and out of 
the ship, and on its voyage across the ocean. Our 
last day at Naples was spent on the dock seeing 
that these things were done to the Get-There. In 
New York the operation of boxing and loading onto 
the steamer had consumed but a few hours, but 
Italian laborers are less alert than their American 
brothers; although the Get-There reached the 
Naples docks early in the morning, it was late in 
the afternoon before the boxing was finished and 
the crate safely stowed in the hold of the White 
Star Liner Cretic. Half an hour later the Cretic 
weighed anchor and steamed out of the harbor. 
And then we realized that our motor trip was in- 
deed ended. 

358 



Across the Adriatic 359 

The thought made us sad and our sadness was 
not lessened by the long railway journey next day 
to Brindisi. During one hundred days we had 
lived in our automobile ; for a hundred happy days 
we had rested in its luxurious seats, bowling along 
over superb roads amid scenes often grandly pic- 
turesque, always historically interesting, the cool 
air rushing in our faces, our movements unham- 
pered by time-tables or schedules — a glorious way 
to travel ! And it seemed doubly glorious now that 
the Get-There was on its way to America and we 
were in a stuffy railway compartment on the way 
to Brindisi. Cooped up in that little box, unable 
to get a bite to eat or a drop to drink, except when 
the train stopped and a guard chose to unlock our 
door, the contrast to those care-free days in the 
Get-There was the reverse of pleasant ! However, 
stuffy as was that railway coach, it was, at any 
rate, better than the ox-cart in which Horace went 
to Brindisi, over pretty much the same road we 
were traversing, in the year B. C. 37 ; ox-carts were 
the fashion in those days, and poor Horace did 
not have even a railway coach must less an 
automobile. 

A few hours after leaving Naples the train 
passed through Salerno, whither we had driven so 
recently from the Hotel Cocumella ; after that, al- 
though the country was new to us, it was not in- 
teresting for some thirty miles; then, at a point 



360 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

seventy miles from Naples the train suddenly en- 
tered a gorge with towering precipices on either 
hand, and so narrow that there was no room for 
even a foot-path between the railway tracks and 
the river. One interesting station at which we 
stopped after emerging from this gorge and cross- 
ing a mountain valley was Metaponto, the city 
where Pythagoras died, five hundred years B. C, 
and which sided with the Greeks when Alexander 
invaded Italy in B. C. 332. A hundred or so years 
after Alexander went away, Hannibal came along 
and Metaponto sided with him. Like some Irish- 
men, Metaponto was always "ag'in' the govern- 
ment,' ' and as a result, when Eome finally became 
mistress of the world she razed Metaponto to the 
ground and sold thirty thousand of its citizens 
into slavery. Pausanias, who wrote his history in 
the second century after Christ, says that in his 
day Metaponto was a mere heap of ruins ; to-day it 
is a solitary railway station with nothing but the 
scant ruins of a Doric temple to remind one of its 
ancient grandeur. 

Thirty miles beyond Metaponto we stopped at 
Taranto, another city which in ancient times sided 
with Alexander and Hannibal and was razed to 
the ground by triumphant Rome ; but, unlike Meta- 
ponto, Taranto didn't stay destroyed — it is to this 
day a busy, prosperous city of some fifty thousand 
inhabitants, many of whom still speak a patois of 



Across the Adriatic 361 

Greek. One would think twenty-two hundred years 
long enough for any people to become acquainted 
with the language of their adopted country, but 
habit lingers long in Europe's forgotten, out-of- 
the-way corners ; and so it is that in Taranto twen- 
ty-two centuries after Greek rule gave way to 
that of Eome the Greek tongue is still spoken by 
many of the people. 

Taranto is on the inside of the "heel" of the 
Italy ' 1 boot ' ' ; the heel is forty-six miles wide. At 
the end of that distance our train rolled into Brin- 
disi and presently we were on the quay surveying 
the city's one remaining relic of antiquity — the 
lofty column erected to mark the eastern end of the 
Appian Way, constructed by Appius Claudius a 
quarter of a thousand years before Christ. In 
ancient times Virgil died at Brindisi ; Horace wrote 
poetry here; Caesar besieged Pompey here; and in 
the Dark Ages the Crusaders assembled here on 
their way to the Holy Land. In those days Brin- 
disi was a wide-awake, important town ; to-day it is 
a sleepy place, unknown to tourists except as the 
port from which to start on one 's voyage to Greece, 
Egypt or the Far East. "We lost little time looking 
at the uninteresting city, but went aboard our 
steamer and slept until the steward next morning 
awoke us with the announcement that Corfu was 
in sight. 

Hastily dressing and going on deck, a superb 



362 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

view met our gaze; the sun was just rising above 
the bleak, towering crags of Epirus, shedding a 
golden glow over all the east, while to the south, 
rising abruptly out of the sea, were Corfu's frown- 
ing ramparts built by the Venetians and after- 
ward partly blown up by the English when they 
turned the Ionian Isles over to Greece in 1864. 

In one of the small boats which came darting 
out to the steamer as soon as it cast anchor was a 
man in a white duck suit; this man came at once 
to us, as if he had been expecting us, and offered 
to act as our guide. "When Gladstone gave Corfu 
back to Greece,' f said the man in the white duck 
suit, "my father, who was an English soldier, quit 
the army and made Corfu his home. He died many 
years ago, but my mother is still here in her ninety- 
second year, and I support her by serving English 
and American travelers." 

This man did much to make our four days ' stay 
on the island agreeable. As no language but Greek 
is spoken by the natives, the non-Greek-speaking 
tourist is apt to fare badly without an interpreter; 
we were spared many vexations by our English 
guide. Arrived at the docks, the other passengers 
were subjected to a disagreeable customs inspec- 
tion, but our Corfu Englishman cast a spell over 
these Greek customs officials. They passed us into 
the city without opening our luggage, much less 
examining it, and a few minutes later we were 



Across the Adriatic 363 

following our guide through a maze of narrow 
streets, barely eight feet wide, to the Hotel St. 
Georges, where we got a room of noble dimensions 
looking down on Corfu's one open square and out 
upon the town's lofty fortress overhanging the 
sea. 

Corfu's modern "lion" is a villa built twenty 
years ago by the Empress of Austria; after her 
assassination at Geneva, in 1898, the Emperor of 
Germany bought the place and he visits it for a few 
weeks in the spring of every year. When the 
Kaiser is not there, travelers are permitted to in- 
spect the villa and its delightful gardens. We 
drove thither in a couple of hours (it is only eleven 
miles from town) and spent the afternoon rambling 
through the gardens and courts. The heroic statue 
of the dying Achilles endeavoring to extract from 
his heel the broken arrow is a noble monument upon 
a noble site; it stands upon the edge of the garden, 
the sea far below beating against the rocks, the 
mountains of Turkey rising high in the heavens a 
few miles away on the opposite shores of the strait. 
Of less artistic interest than this statue, but to us 
of more interest of another sort, was the statue of 
Byron, which the Austrian empress caused to be 
erected in one of the Villa Achilleion's beautiful 
nooks. Byron was par excellence the poet of free- 
dom, of democracy. Although himself an aristo- 
crat he scorned kings and denounced them when he 



3G-4 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

was not ridiculing them. For instance, these lines 
about the then reigning Czar of Russia : 

"Resplendent sight! Behold the Coxcomb Czar! 
The autocrat of waltzes and of war! 
. . . were I not Diogenes, I'd wander 
Rather a worm than such an Alexander!" 

Or these lines about George III : 

"He ever warr'd with freedom and the free; 
Nations, as men, home subjects, foreign foes, 
So that they uttered the word 'Liberty!' 
Found George the Third their first opponent." 

Byron makes St. Peter at the gates of heaven 
say of George III : 

"Ere Heaven shall ope her portals to this Guelf, 
While I am on guard, may I be damn'd myself!" 

And of Ireland's reception to George IV, then 
King of England, Byron wrote these stinging 
lines : 

"But he comes! The Messiah of Royalty comes! 
Like a goodly Leviathan roll'd from the waves! 
Then receive him as best such an advent becomes, 
With a legion of cooks and an army of slaves! 

"Is it madness or meanness which clings to thee now? 

Were he God — as he is but the commonest clay, 
With scarce fewer wrinkles than sins on his brow — 
Such servile devotion might shame him away. 

"Spread — spread, for Vitellius, the royal repast, 

Till the gluttonous despot be stuffed to the gorge! 
And the roar of his drunkards proclaim him at last 
The Fourth of the fools and oppressors call'd George!" 



Across the Adriatic 365 

These burning words were deserved by the fat, 
arrogant mediocre George IV, which makes them 
the more hateful to that king's descendant, 
George V, present King of England; it makes 
them the more hateful to all Tories and aristocrats 
who dearly love a king — and so the ruling classes 
of England dislike Byron, and one may travel far 
in the British Isles without seeing a single statue 
of one of Great Britain's greatest poets. It is no 
wonder kings do not like Byron when they recall 
that he wrote thus of all kings : 

"Each brute hath its nature. A King's is to reign — 

To reign! In that word see, ye Ages, comprised 
The cause of the curses all annals contain, 
From Caesar the dreaded to George the despised!" 

That Elizabeth of Austria should care for the 
poet who wrote thus of her class — that she should 
even erect his statue in her garden shows a mind 
and a soul above the ordinary; it awakened our in- 
terest in her pathetic life and in its tragic ending. 
The reader who has not already done so will be re- 
paid by reading the account of this unfortunate 
woman contained in a little book written by one 
of her friends, entitled "The Martyrdom of an 
Empress.' ' The martyrdom referred to was that 
of her daily life (she was not happily married), 
rather than to her tragic death in Switzerland. 

Another interesting journey in Corfu was across 
the island to an ancient monastery, Palaeokastrizza. 



366 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Thanks to the English occupation of some years 
ago, Corfu's roads were built on scientific princi- 
ples and they are still in excellent condition. Had 
we only been in the Get-There we could have gone 
in half a day from one end of the island to the 
other; in the antique, high-wheeled vehicle, drawn 
by two scrubby ponies, which our guide procured, 
it required an entire day to make a scant forty 
miles. We skirted the base of Corfu's highest 
mountain, San Salvatore, a peak rising abruptly 
3,000 feet out of the sea; then we climbed the 
rugged rock on whose smnmit stands the monas- 
tery of Palaeokastrizza. 

The Greek priests on top of that queer rock wore 
long hair and beards and gowns; they served us 
with some very black, dreggy coffee and waved 
their hands at the scenery, as an invitation to us to 
admire it. Their garden was a tiny affair ; indeed, 
the whole top of the rock is not more than fifty 
feet wide by about a hundred long; its sides rise 
precipitously from the sea on one side and from 
the valley on the other ; it would be impossible to 
reach the summit but for the road which is hewn 
out of the rock, round and round from the base to 
the top. 

On descending from the monastery I took a swim 
in the Adriatic while waiting for the ponies to be 
hitched to the carriage, then we drove over the 
mountains and through the valleys back to the city, 







< s 

Of 

£ ° 



Across the Adriatic 367 

passing miles of hoary olive trees with both limbs 
and leaves gray, as with age, their trunks knotted 
and gnarled and twisted into all sorts of fantastic 
shapes. We saw vineyards a-plenty, but no or- 
chards — yet Corfu's market displayed the greatest 
quantity of apples, pears, plums, figs and other 
fruits, none of which we saw growing on the island. 

The peasant women carried themselves splen- 
didly, straight as Indians, even under the weight 
of heavy burdens. Some of them had on their 
heads earthen jars full of water weighing probably 
fifty or sixty pounds. To carry so great a burden 
at all is no easy feat — to balance it on the head is 
an accomplishment which the Corfiote women pos- 
sess in a remarkable degree. They coil their long, 
lustrous hair on top of their heads, set the water- 
jugs on this natural cushion and dart up the moun- 
tain slopes as fleet of foot as so many chamois or 
goats. Though proud in their bearing, some, at 
least, of the Corfiote women are lacking in pride 
of person: We saw several disrobe on the beach 
beneath the city's ramparts and bathe in the sea 
as calmly and unconcernedly as if they had been 
in the privacy of a closed bath. 

The steamer Thetis, of the Austrial Lloyd Line, 
on which we embarked on the fourth day of our 
sojourn in Corfu, was making its last voyage; it 
had been in service forty years and according to 
Austrian law had now to retire and be dismantled 



368 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

— not reassuring to her passengers, but if anything 
did happen, if the venerable steamer took a notion 
to go to the bottom of the sea to escape the ig- 
nominy of being cast on the junk heap, we had at 
least the consolation of observing that we kept 
close to shore, so close that any fairly good 
swimmer could have made it. 

When we awoke the morning after leaving Corfu 
the Thetis lay at anchor off the Turkish town of 
Volonta; a small boat conveyed us ashore and a 
wonderful cab, a cab that surely was not less than 
an hundred years old, carried us over rough cobble- 
stones to the town a mile away. There is not much 
of interest in Volonta; its streets are dingy and 
dirty, its fierce-looking men wear black mustaches 
and baggy breeches ; its women may be pretty, but 
you can't see them — they are enveloped from head 
to foot in gowns as shapeless as flour sacks. And 
yet this squalid town was once the scene of great 
doings. It was here that Augustus received the 
news of Caesar's death; and more than a thousand 
years later, in the eleventh century, the Normans 
made Volonta their base of operations against the 
Byzantium Empire. 

The Thetis' next stop was at Durazzo, in Al- 
bania, where Cicero resided after his exile from 
Rome. All the way north to Spalato we hugged 
the shore and so were allowed during several days 
to feast our eyes on some of the finest scenery in 



Across the Adriatic 369 

the world. At times the sea was studded with 
islands ; between them and the mainland to the east 
we seemed to be gliding through a series of ma- 
jestic lakes with mountains towering above us on 
every side. We would wonder how the Thetis was 
going to get out of a lake hemmed in on every side 
by walls of frowning mountains — then a sudden 
turn in the channel, and into another lake we would 
glide, to repeat the same maneuver a few miles 
farther on. In some places the Albanian and Dal- 
matian coasts rise precipitously from the ocean, 
masses of rock of the most marvelous colors ! Our 
memories had to go back to the Grand Canyon of 
the Colorado to find anything comparable to the 
vivid coloring of that rock-ribbed coast of the 
Adriatic. 

Of this part of the world Gibbon wrote in his 
monumental history: " Within sight of Italy is a 
land less known than the interior of America. ' ' In 
1809, Byron wrote of Albania asa" rugged nurse 
of savage men. ' ' And as Byron and Gibbon wrote 
an hundred years ago, so one might write to-day. 
Albania and Dalmatia are still wild and rugged 
and, to the average tourist, little-known lands. 
Yet they are better worth seeing than almost any 
other part of Europe. Nowhere else in Europe is 
there wilder, grander scenery, and nowhere else do 
the natives keep so free from the dull common- 
places of twentieth century life. The peasantry of 



370 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Albania, Montenegro and Dalmatia are as curi- 
ously and picturesquely garbed as the peasants of 
a grand opera. 

Nor are these lands lacking in beautiful cities 
and in historical memories. At Spalato there still 
remains enough of Diocletian's palace to give a 
hint of the city's former importance. That vast 
palace fronted five hundred and fourteen feet on 
the sea, while its sides measured six hundred and 
ninety-eight feet. Three thousand people once 
lived within the palace walls, which were so mass- 
ive that centuries later, when the barbarians were 
overrunning Italy, the last decadent Romans took 
refuge in Diocletian's palace, cowering behind its 
huge walls and trusting to them, instead of to their 
swords, for protection against the savage men who 
poured, like a torrent, from the eastern mountains. 

Of the fifty-two Doric columns which originally 
formed the porticus of the palace, thirty-two still 
stand; the space between each column has been 
filled in with masonry, forming so many little 
shops. A mass of mighty columns, of Corinthian 
arches, of noble gateways, a temple second only to 
the Pantheon at Rome— these are some of the 
things which repay the traveler for going to 
Spalato. And when he sees that palace he revises 
his notions about Diocletian. That emperor did, 
indeed, abandon the imperial throne, but the ' ' cab- 




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Across the Adriatic 371 

bage patch' ' to which he retired was every whit as 
palatial as the palace of the Caesars at Eome. 

Hardly less interesting than Spalato is Ragusa, 
where we spent the week's end, from Saturday till 
Monday. The city is encircled by a very high wall 
on the top of which visitors are permitted to walk, 
provided they apply at the commandant's office at 
precisely 11 o 'clock. This we did Sunday morning, 
and the walk around the city on top of that wall 
was one of the most interesting walks we ever took. 
Not only was there a wonderful view of the Adri- 
atic to the west, of immense mountains to the east 
and at our feet a square mile or so of picturesque 
houses with the brightest red, gray, pink and yel- 
low tiles — but in addition to all this were the peo- 
ple down in the streets of Ragusa. It was as if 
they were there especially for our entertainment, 
crowds of them promenading up and down the 
streets, the women in gay-colored dresses, red ker- 
chiefs on their heads, around their necks chains 
made of heavy gold ornaments, jackets of bright 
colors and heavily embroidered with gold, their 
corsages laced outside — such coloring, such orna- 
ments, such fashions are to be seen nowhere else, 
unless in an operatic extravaganza ! 

The men were picturesque, too; their jackets 
reached down only to the small of their backs and 
the gap between the lower part of the jacket and 
the upper part of the breeches was covered by a 



372 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

brilliant, many-colored sash into which was thrust 
a variety of pistols, swords and daggers. When 
we came down from the top of the wall we went 
to a shop and bought one of these daggers with an 
inlaid handle and a blade as sharp as a razor; it 
is an interesting souvenir of Ragusa and would 
make a fine paper-cutter were it not so dangerously 
sharp. 



CHAPTER XX 

The wonderful Bocche di Cattaro. — Through Montenegro to 
Cetinje. — A toy kingdom. — Across Lake Scutari to Skodra. 
— Curious scenes in a Turkish bazaar. — Return to Italy. — 
A day in Spain, and then New York at last. 

\T OYAGING south from Ragusa, on reaching a 
* promontory that juts sharply out into the 
sea and that is surmounted by a frowning fort, our 
steamer made an abrupt turn and a few minutes 
later we were steaming through one of the grand- 
est scenes in Europe. I have never been to Nor- 
way, but travelers who have visited that country 
say that not even the wildest of the Norwegian 
fjords surpasses the Bocche di Cattaro. 

As the steamer proceeded east the mountains on 
either side came closer and closer, so close that at 
last they seemed to hang right over us ; at one point 
the channel is so narrow that a chain is stretched 
across it when it is desired to keep out steamers. 
The distance from the entrance to the end of this 
wonderful fjord is only twelve miles as the crow 
flies, but the distance by water, winding in and 
out of those narrow arms of the sea, is twenty 
miles. It was three hours before we cast anchor 

373 



374 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

at Cattaro; even the fastest steamer must go slow 
when it is obliged to swing corners every few hun- 
dred yards, but amid such sublime scenery the 
traveler cares not how long the voyage lasts. As 
curiously interesting as Cattaro is, we were sorry 
when we got there, for it meant an end of the jour- 
ney through that magnificent fjord. 

Cetinje is a remote place, but after you have 
traveled about the world a bit you will learn that 
no matter whither you may happen to be going 
other people are going to the same place. That 
morning in Cattaro it seemed as if half the town 
wanted to go to Cetinje. I had sent money a week 
in advance for the two front seats of the automo- 
bile which plies between Cattaro and the Monte- 
negrin capital, nevertheless, when we landed that 
morning and went to the post-office for our tickets 
we were told all the places were taken. I produced 
my week-old receipt and insisted on my two places. 
"Ah, well, in that case two others must wait till 
to-morrow's automobile, ' ' said the post official. 
"You may have two places in the interior. ,, 

Now, the inside seats of the Cetinje automobile 
are not only stuffy and uncomfortable, but they 
afford little chance to see the view; we had come 
specially for that wonderful view and so told the 
post official, but he declared even when passengers 
paid for front seats they would have to take inside 
seats if a guard happened to be going to Cetinje 







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Montenegro and Journey s Ending 375 

with government gold. Was a guard going on this 
trip? The official answered, yes, but he had a 
guilty look. * ' Beamer, ' ' said I, in English, ' * some 
tourist has given this man a bribe. We will go at 
once to the automobile and take our front seats. 
If a guard with a bag of gold comes, maybe we 
will give up to him, but I'll be blessed if I take a 
back seat for any mere traveler.' ' 

The automobile, a big bus-like machine, with 
three seats outside in front, eight places inside and 
a roof on which the mail-sacks and baggage were 
piled, stood under a tree on the dock within fifty 
yards of where our steamer lay at anchor. We 
went there, placed our luggage on top, then calmly 
climbed into the front seats and awaited develop- 
ments, which swiftly came. As the hour for de- 
parture approached the mail and baggage were 
brought to the dock, followed by the passengers, 
two of whom demanded of the conductor that they 
be given the outside bench. The conductor ex- 
amined their tickets. " Monsieur,' ' he said to me, 
"it is as they have said. Their tickets call for the 
outside places." 

"But our receipt calls for the outside places," I 
replied. 

"A ticket takes precedence over a receipt," said 
the conductor. 

"Not when the receipt is a week old and the 
tickets were bought only an hour ago. It is not our 



376 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

fault that they refused to exchange our receipts 
for tickets." 

The conductor looked puzzled; the two men 
angrily insisted on being given the places called 
for by their tickets ; we calmly remained in the dis- 
puted places. It was an interesting situation, what 
the French call an impasse; the conductor implored 
us to vacate, but we declared we would not budge 
an inch, and at last he shrugged his shoulders and 
ordered the chauffeur to start. Much ado about 
nothing? Well, we did not think so. We had come 
far to see Montenegro and we did not intend to let 
a petty bribe-receiving official cheat us out of the 
view. 

The road is hewn out of the face of a mile-high 
rock which rises almost straight up out of the sea ; 
as we gradually got to the top the fjord unrolled 
itself below us; we could see its every turn, its 
lakes with their stupendous walls, and beyond the 
broad Adriatic. It is difficult to speak of that ride 
without dealing in superlatives ; neither of us had 
ever seen anything approaching such wild, such 
weird scenery, and we both agreed that travelers 
make a mistake in not including Montenegro in 
their itinerary. 

Before leaving Cattaro we set the barometer at 
zero; when it registered four thousand three 
hundred feet the automobile stopped to cool the 
motor, and for a brief, half hour we sat there 



Montenegro and Journey's Ending 377 

looking down upon the zigzag road up which 
we had scaled that gigantic precipice, and upon 
the quaint old Dalmatian city and its wonder- 
ful approach of mountain-locked lakes. Then we 
started again and presently crossed a line of rocks 
laid across the road. "That line," said the chauf- 
feur, ' ' is the boundary line between Dalmatia and 
Montenegro. ' ' A mile farther on, at a stone house, 
several huge men with fierce mustaches and belts 
bristling with guns and daggers, examined our 
baggage ; no one had anything dutiable, so the au- 
tomobile quickly started on its way. 

We passed a place where, the winter before, the 
chauffeur remained four days buried in a snow 
drift. He told us it was warm when he left Cat- 
taro, but as he climbed up into the clouds the tem- 
perature fell and finally snow began to fall and 
after awhile the automobile stuck fast; the chauf- 
feur feared to start out in that swirling, blinding 
snow, so for four days he remained inside the au- 
tomobile, hoping the storm would abate. At last, 
realizing if he remained there that he would both 
starve and freeze, he set out on foot and within a 
dozen yards stumbled off the side of the road into 
a snowdrift thirty feet deep. Only by the most 
superhuman efforts did he succeed in getting out ; 
luckily, a short distance beyond was a stone hut 
and into this the chauffeur staggered and remained 
three weeks. As we passed the stone hut the chauf- 



378 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

feur waved a friendly greeting to a man and 
woman standing in the doorway. l ' Had it not been 
for them," he said, "I would have frozen to death. 
I was too exhausted to walk another step when I 
stumbled into their door. They will always seem 
good to me, that man and that woman!" 

Even in the warmth of a brilliant October day 
the approach to Montenegro is gloomy and forbid- 
ding; it merits its name, " Black Mountain.' ' As we 
halted a moment on the summit of the pass, one of 
our fellow-passengers, a German, exclaimed: "Ein 
Felsen Meer!" — (a crag sea, a sea of crags, of 
rocks, of gigantic boulders) . And that is what it is. 
On every side as far as the eye can reach a pro- 
digious mass of huge boulders ! It is said the Mon- 
tenegrins came originally from Servia to escape 
Turkish rule — from which it is plain Turkish rule 
must have been pretty bad. For, assuredly, no one 
would elect to live amid a mass of crags and rocks 
unless the alternative were very disagreeable 
indeed. 

There seems little place for crops to grow in 
Montenegro and the people would fare badly were 
it not for Europe's international jealousies. Mon- 
tenegro has some 50,000 men, the sturdiest, biggest, 
bravest men in Europe, all born fighters, all ac- 
customed to carrying arms from childhood. The 
help of 50,000 such fighters is no mean asset in a 
controversy between two powers. In 1877 it was 



Montenegro and Journey's Ending 379 

Montenegro's aid which helped Russia win an easy 
victory over Turkey. And so Austria, Russia and 
Italy all pay court to this rugged mountain coun- 
try. Austria built the superb road which opened 
the way from Cattaro to Cetinje. Russia is build- 
ing in Cetinje a fine group of government buildings 
for the Montenegrin officials, and to Italy Monte- 
negro owes her superb harbor at Antivari. It is 
said that whenever Montenegro's ruler wants a 
shipload of guns all he has to do is to drop a hint 
to that effect, and Austria, Russia and Italy, like 
three suitors for a lady's hand, fall over one an- 
other to see which can have the honor of supplying 
the little country's wants. 

Cetinje, the capital, is situated in a valley 
hemmed in on all sides by towering rocks. Our 
automobile descended into this wild valley and 
dashed down a long street to the post-office. From 
the post-office we walked to the hotel and felt like 
pigmies as we passed the big men of Montenegro. 
I do not recall seeing any man in Cetinje who was 
less than six feet tall, while most of them must have 
been six feet three or four inches. And all go 
armed to the teeth, revolvers, swords and daggers 
in their broad belts ; their heads thrown back, stal- 
wart and erect, they look as proud and haughty in 
their bearing as if every man of them were a king. 

We spent several days in this toy kingdom — for 
kingdom it now is, the Prince having been recently 



380 Seeing Europe by Auto mobile 

turned into a king. The contrast between the rude 
simplicity of the little village and its pretentions 
to royalty is amusing. The town has one long 
street flanked on both sides by modest one and two- 
story houses ; there are a dozen or so short streets 
which intersect the main street, and on one of these 
little cross streets are the " palaces " of King Peter 
and of his son, Prince Mirko. The King's palace 
is a plain dwelling about as large as a fourth-rate 
residence in St. Louis ; the Prince's palace is a two- 
story cottage about as big as the home of an av- 
erage American carpenter. It touches the houses 
to its right and left and has no yard in front of it — 
the little porch abuts the sidewalk. As we strolled 
by we saw through the open windows a servant set- 
ting His Highness' dinner-table, and presently His 
Highness, a handsome, athletic young fellow, came 
out on the front porch and sat there smoking cigar- 
ettes. People who passed saluted, and the Prince 
nodded his head — it was all so plain, so common- 
place that the use of royal titles seemed a bit 
ridiculous. 

Across the street was the King directing a job 
on the palace — painting and carpenter work. He 
looked like a plain, sun-burned country squire — but 
that title of King is as genuine as if he were the 
ruler of a great country. The King of Italy 
thought it a mesalliance for his cousin to marry the 
daughter of an American Senator, but the King of 



Montenegro and Journey's Ending 381 

Italy himself was perfectly willing to marry, and 
did marry, the daughter of the old man we saw 
bossing that job of painting. Eoyalty surrounded 
even by poverty and squalor counts in Europe far 
more than democracy, even though it be gilded and 
dwell in a palace. All the big Powers keep lega- 
tions at Cetinje; the French Ambassador at Ce- 
tinje lives in a handsome mansion; Eussia, Italy 
and Germany also have there pretentious ambassa- 
dorial residences. 

Were Congress to take some sparsely settled 
Western county, declare it a kingdom and make the 
mayor of its chief village king of the new country, 
it would still be the same little county, full of rocks 
and sagebrush; the king would still be the same 
man that he was when they called him mayor, 
Nevertheless, Europe, which wouldn't speak to a 
mayor, even of New York, would call that sage- 
brush potentate " Brother "; legations would be es- 
tablished in his shabby little village ; royalty would 
seek in marriage the hand of his daughter. And 
he himself, when abroad, would be received with 
booming of cannon and would put up at royalty's 
palaces. At any rate, that is what has happened 
with old Peter of Montenegro ; born in a hut, ruler 
of a handful of men in a two-by-four country, his 
capital a mere village, because he has had the sense 
to call himself a king, he is received by emperors 



382 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

and kaisers as a brother in royalty. And yet 
Shakespeare says there is nothing in a name ! 

Cetinje is in the bottom of a deep bowl, the steep 
sides of which rise to a height of one thou- 
sand eight hundred feet above the village. We 
hired a carriage and drove np the zigzag road 
which leads out of that "bowl" to the east 
and, arrived at the edge of the bowl, we saw 
the little toy capital on the west nearly two thou- 
sand feet below, while four thousand three hundred 
feet below us, on the east, lay the beautiful Lake of 
Scutari. It was a magnificent scene; after an 
hour 's winding down the face of the mountain the 
carriage stopped on the bank of the Kyeka River, 
where a small steamboat was waiting. 

During the next four hours we steamed eastward 
toward Turkey's shores. At first the boat was in 
that narrow little river, lofty mountains close in 
on each side of the stream, but after awhile the 
gorge widened until finally it opened into the Lake 
of Scutari. Great flocks of pelicans flew by us, or 
swam on the placid waters of the lake. We saw, 
too, long-legged fisher-birds and storks, side by 
side with flocks of wild ducks. Occasionally queer 
craft of the " vintage' ' of about 1492 would pass 
us, manned by sailors wearing red fezzes and 
baggy breeches and singing wild, unmusical songs. 
On Lake Scutari there is no danger of forgetting 
that you have left the West and the twentieth cen- 



Montenegro and Journey's Ending 383 

tury behind you. The rugged rocks that tower into 
the clouds on all sides of the lake, the strange birds 
which fly over it, the curious craft which float on it, 
the fantastic men who sail those craft — all unite 
to make a picture which can never be seen in the 
prosaic West. 

And arrived at Skodra the impression of being 
in another world and in another century is deep- 
ened. As we were about to step ashore a swarthy, 
red-fezzed Turk waved us back into the boat. 
"Have you a passport?" he demanded. We had 
one. "Ah, yes, but is it viseed?" We had paid the 
Turkish Consul at Cetinje to vise our passport and 
so told the Turk, who seemed disappointed ; with a 
viseed passport there was no chance to " graft.' ' 
But he turned us over to a brother Turk, who 
worked a graft in a small way; this man pointed 
to a box fastened to the wall of the custom house 
and bade us drop money in it ; over the box an in- ' 
scription in bad French announced that visitors 
were expected to drop money in that box for the 
benefit of the Turkish army and navy. We had 
doubts as to whether the contents of the boxes ever 
got beyond the piratical-looking men in charge of 
it, but these doubts did not prevent us making a 
contribution. When you are in a wild country and 
when a pirate in a red fez and baggy breeches " in- 
vites' ' you to make a contribution it is the part of 
wisdom to accept the " invitation.' ' 



384? Seeing Europe by Automobile 

We made our contribution, then turned our grip 
and suit-case over to two porters and started for 
the city, which proved to be nearly two miles dis- 
tant. We had supposed the city to be close at hand, 
consequently, as the shadows of night fell upon us 
with no house in sight, we began to suspect our two 
porters of some sort of mischief, especially as they 
continually lagged behind us. Finally we stopped 
and ordered them to get in front and to stay there. 
They did not understand a word of English, but 
they knew what we meant; it is wonderful how 
much of one's meaning one can convey when one 
is angry and suspicious and knows how to gesture 
and pantomime. Those porters knew what we 
wanted as well as if we had spoken in Turkish, and 
after that they kept in front of us all the rest of 
the way. 

We went first to the Hotel Europa where a little 
German is spoken: no rooms. Then half a mile 
down a dark, cobblestone street to an Italian inn — 
same fate: no room. Finally a Greek took us in 
and although his house was dirty and his food was 
vile, it was better than nothing — and nothing was 
what at first we seemed destined to get. As the 
night wore on in that dark, Turkish city, each hotel 
and inn announcing "No Rooms," I began to think 
I had done wrong to bring Beamer to so uncivilized 
a place : and so it was that when at last we found 






Montenegro and Journey's Ending 385 

a Greek to give us shelter we were too thankful to 
be critical. 

Across the narrow street from our room was a 
garden in which, despite the lateness of the hour, 
a band of eight or ten men were making the most 
unearthly sounds — it was supposed to be music, 
but it was unlike anything we had ever heard be- 
fore. Tired as we were from the day's voyage and 
the long tramp in search of lodgings, we were so 
fascinated by that weird music that we left our 
room, crossed the street and entered the garden. 
Our appearance, or rather Beamer's, created a 
sensation. She was the only woman in the garden, 
and her face was uncovered! The men set down 
their cups of dreggy coffee, the musicians stopped 
their nerve-racking strains, the baggy-breeched, 
red-fezzed waiters stopped fetching coffee to gaze 
at the rare and the scandalous sight of a woman 
with an uncovered face ! 

Whatever reforms may have been accomplished 
in Constantinople and in other Turkish cities where 
Europeans sometimes go, little has been changed 
in the interior towns of Turkey. The next day, 
when we walked through Skodra's bazaar the sight 
of an unveiled woman almost caused a general ces- 
sation of work ; the whole bazaar paused to take a 
look at Beamer, and crowds followed her through 
the maze of narrow, winding streets. We were told 
that a year ago, before the success of the revolu- 



386 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

tion, it would have been very unsafe for us to have 
visited Skodra; in the good old days of Abdul 
Hamid the assassination of a couple of defenseless 
Christians would not only have been deemed a 
merry sport, but a meritorious deed entitling the 
assassin to extra honors in Paradise. 

The Bazaar of Skodra consists of hundreds of 
low, wooden booths facing each other across little 
lanes, six or eight feet wide ; the eaves of the booths 
almost meet, so that overhead only a narrow slit 
remains for the admission of light and air. We 
wandered through a mile or more of these covered 
lanes, sometimes getting lost in the labyrinth and 
enjoying the sight hugely. I had visited the ba- 
zaars of Constantinople, Tangiers and Cairo, but 
in neither of those places did I see such strange, 
such thoroughly Oriental sights as we saw in Sko- 
dra. Tourists go to Constantinople, Cairo and 
Tangiers and half the wares exposed in their ba- 
zaars are designed to catch the tourist-eye; in 
Skodra there are no tourists, consequently the ba- 
zaar is run for, as well as by, the natives. Had it 
not been for the embarrassment of having the peo- 
ple stare so at Beamer we could have spent another 
day in that wonderful bazaar, looking at the mer- 
chants squatting cross-legged on their floors, while 
they sold all sorts of curious things to women 
dressed in shapeless sacks, their faces veiled so 
that we could see nothing but their flashing eyes. 



Montenegro and Journey's Ending 387 

A gentleman connected with the Austrian Con- 
sulate told us that shortly after the Sultan's depo- 
sition the new government passed a Conscription 
Act which the men of Skodra ignored. The gov- 
ernment ordered the men to enroll; the men re- 
fused ; the government announced that if the men 
did not enroll by a given day Skodra would be bom- 
barded. Cannon were planted on the hills com- 
manding the city, but there was no bombardment, 
although the given day arrived without any en- 
rollments. 

"But," added the Austrian, "things can't con- 
tinue so. If the men don't enlist the government 
will be obliged at least to try to enforce its decree, 
and then look out for lively times in Skodra!" 

Shortly before the Sultan was deposed, a massa- 
cre of Christians was planned in Skodra ; all that 
prevented the massacre was the fact that the plan 
became prematurely known. Ten thousand Alban- 
ian Christians came trooping in from the moun- 
tains to defend their co-religionists in the city and, 
although Skodra has a population of fifty thou- 
sand, with a large body of Turkish soldiers camped 
in its barracks, it was not thought worth while to 
run up against those ten thousand Albanians, 
every man of whom was accustomed to firearms 
almost from infancy. 

Episodes like this helped us to understand why 
Skodra has not been sought after by tourists. 



388 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Under the new Turkish Government, however, it is 
not really unsafe to visit the city, and the traveler 
who gets as far as Cetinje will be repaid for his 
trouble if he crosses Lake Scutari and visits West- 
ern Turkey. 

When we left Turkish territory we took the same 
lake steamer on which we had come from Ryeka, 
but we did not go all the way back to Ryeka ; we 
left the boat at one of its landings called Virpaz- 
zar, whence a railroad runs to Montenegro's one 
and only seaport, Antivari. This little railway 
journey was alone worth coming to take ; the road 
enters a deep gorge as soon as it leaves Virpazzar 
and begins climbing up the mountain's steep sides 
into the clouds. From the summit of the pass we 
looked back down upon Lake Scutari, and forward 
to Antivari, thousands of feet below, nestling on 
the Adriatic's shores. An hour's run brought the 
train from this lofty perch down to the seashore 
where a steamer waited to carry passengers across 
the sea to Bari. From Bari an eleven-hour ride by 
rail brought us to Naples and the next day we se- 
cured passage on the steamer Venezia for New 
York. Three days later the Venezia stopped for 
twenty-four hours at Almeria in Spain, and we 
explored an old Moorish castle there and took an 
automobile ride out to see some of the celebrated 
Spanish vineyards. 

When the voyage was resumed and Almeria 's 



Montenegro and Journey's Ending 389 

walls and ancient castle and low, white houses 
faded away behind the eastern horizon we felt that 
our vacation was in very truth ended. Nine days 
later, amid the noise and bustle of New York's 
busy streets the dolce far niente of Italy, the 
slower, easier ways of Europe in general — above 
all, the weird scenes of Skodra's bazaar seemed 
as unreal as if we had known them only in a dream. 
But it was not a dream ; it was all a very real, a 
very delightful reality, and Beamer and I both 
agree that we would like nothing better than to 
take the dear old Get-There and make the same 
trip over again. 



APPENDIX 

A condensed itinerary of the Get- There's trip. — Notes as to 
the roads and as to which of the runs are most worth 
taking. 

O HOULD any one care to motor over portions of 
^ the route we traveled a condensed itinerary 
of our trip may prove useful. The distances, which 
are given as they were indicated by our Stewart 
Speedometer, may, in some instances, vary from 
those shown by the map : that is because the Get- 
There occasionally made slight detours, not be- 
cause of any fault of our trusty speedometer. By 
watching the clock on the dash of the Get-There, 
and the milestones on the roadside, we were able 
to observe the accuracy with which both distance 
and speed are measured by that ingenious little in- 
strument called a " Speedometer.' ' If our guide- 
book or map told us that X (the day's destination) 
was, say, one hundred and fifty miles from the 
morning's starting-point, we never troubled to stop 
on the way to inquire how much farther it was to 
X ; we merely looked at our Stewart and knew ex- 
actly how many miles we had to travel by noting 
how far we had already gone. The speedometer 

391 



392 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

was also useful as a method of keeping account of 
our gasoline supply; we knew a gallon was used 
for every thirteen miles traveled, and as the Get- 
There J s tank contained twelve gallons at starting, 
whenever the speedometer indicated one hundred 
miles or more we began to look out for a gasoline 
station. 

The runs are given in the order in which we took 
them ; the reader, of course, may take only such of 
them as suit his convenience or appeal to his fancy ; 
from the note appended to each run he may judge 
which are specially desirable because of excellence 
of roads, historic interest or beauty of scenery. 
Where the roads are described as "fine," "good" 
or "excellent," etc., those adjectives must be con- 
strued with reference to the country in which the 
roads are located ; to speak of a road in France as 
"fine" is to say that that road is well-nigh perfect. 
But to speak of an Italian road as "fine" is merely 
to say that that road is less rutty, or rough, or 
dusty than the generality of Italian roads. No- 
where else in Europe are the roads so good as in 
France — at any rate, nowhere else are they any 
better; but nowhere — at least, nowhere that the 
Get-There went — are the roads as bad as is the 
average American road. Consequently, when in 
the notes below a road is spoken of as "poor" or 
"bad" it must not be inferred that the road is bad 



Appendix 398 

in the sense in which we speak of an American road 
as bad. A bad American road — for example, an 
Illinois dirt road after a rain — is practically im- 
possible for motoring. Nowhere in Europe did we 
see a road so bad that an automobile could not 
travel over it ; some rough and rocky roads we cer- 
tainly saw, particularly in Italy. But there was a 
bottom to even the worst road we saw in Europe, 
and while the Get-There may have been shaken up 
a bit on one or two occasions, there was never the 
slightest danger of sinking deep in mud and of 
having to hire horses to pull us out — a fate which 
may befall a motorist within a dozen miles of al- 
most any American city. 

Here are our "runs": 

Run 1. Havre — Rouen — Paris: 138 miles. 

Miles from 
Havre. 

Havre 

Lillebonne 23 

Rouen 57 

Nantes 107 

St. Germain 127 

Paris 138 

Note. — There are two routes from Havre to Rouen. The 
one here given is longer than the other, but is preferable be- 
cause of the lovely scenery aloug the Seine. At Rouen, the 
Hotel de Paris, No. 50 Quai de Paris, has comfortable rooms, 
looking out on the Seine. Free garage in hotel. As far as 
St. Germain, splendid roads; the remaining 11 miles into 
Paris are over stone-paved streets. 



394 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Run 2. Paris— Trouville: 125 miles. 

Miles from 
Paris. 

Paris 

St. Germain 11 

Nantes 31 

Evreux 61 

Lisieux 106 

Trouville 125 

Note. — Eleven miles rough road to St. Germain; remain- 
ing 114 miles over fine roads, smooth surface; shade trees on 
each side of road. At Trouville, the "Tivoli" is a modest inn, 
with shelter for six automobiles. 



Run 3. Trouville — Avranches: 139 miles. 

Miles from 
Trouville. 

Trouville 

Dives 14 

Caen 30 

Bayeux 64 

Coutances 105 

Granville 122 

Avranches 139 

Note. — The first 20 miles is over a fine road, often close 
to the sea. Deauville, Villers-sur-Mer, Dives, and other pictur- 
esque Norman seaside resorts, are passed. At Dives is the 
celebrated Inn of William the Conqueror, built near the spot 
where the Norman duke embarked for England, 845 years ago. 
Caen, a medieval-looking city, is passed; 34 miles beyond 
Caen, at Bayeux, is the famous tapesty (at Bayeux, Hotel 
du Luxembourg, good, and cheap, with free garage) ; 58 miles 
from Bayeux is Granville, on a high rock overlooking the sea; 
picturesque inhabitants (note curious white head-dress and 
linen of the women). Fine roads all the way to Avranches, 
where stop at Hotel d'Angleterre; free garage in hotel. 



Appendix 395 



Run 4. Avranches— Mont St. Michel— St. Malo: 68 miles. 

Miles from 
Avranches. 

Avranches 

Pontorson 14 

Mont St. Michel, and return, to Pontorson 

13 miles. 
Pontorson (including run to Mont St. Michel 

and return) 27 

Dol 39 

St. Malo 68 



Note. — Excellent roads, with fine views of the sea. Mt. 
St. Michel worth at least half a day's stop; St. Malo, with 
its wonderful walls, curious streets, and gay bathing scenes, 
merits a day or two's visit. Many English go to St. Malo. 
Result, hotels charge English prices. At the Franklin Hotel, 
$4.50 per day (full pension) ; at the modest but comfortable 
inn, Hotel de l'Union, we obtained room and full board, with 
wine, for $1.50 a day, each; garage, 40 cents a day extra. 



Run 5. St. Malo — Rennes— Angers : 128 miles. 

Miles from 
St. Malo. 

St. Malo 

Chateauneuf 9 

Rennes 45 

Chateaubriant 80 

Segre 105 

Angers 128 

Note. — Good roads; scenery less interesting than on Nor- 
man coast. At Rennes, Hotel de France, big room for two, 
$1.40 per day; free garage. At Angers, Hotel Grand, Place 
du Ralliament, luxurious room overlooking open square, $2 a 
day for two. Half a day is enough for sleepy Rennes. A day 
may be spent in Angers. Fine view from ramparts of Angers' 
Castle, 200 feet above the river Maine. 



396 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Run 6. Angers — Tours: 62 miles. 

Miles from 
Angers. 

Angers 

Saumur 30 

Langeais 56 

Tours 62 

Note. — Good roads, through pleasant scenery; for 40 miles 
road is on top of a high levee, built 1,000 years ago, to con- 
trol the river Loire. At Tours, Grand Hotel de l'Univers, for 
fashionable motorists; a modest, inexpensive inn, with free 
garage, is the Hotel de la Boule d'Or, on the Rue Nationale. 
Make Tours headquarters for excursions to a number of superb 
chateaux: Chenonceau, 20 miles from Tours; Chinon, 31 
miles; Azay-le-Rideau, 16 miles; Loches, 29 miles; Amboise, 
16 miles, etc. It is better to return each night to Tours than 
to take a chance at the indifferent inns at some of the small 
chateau towns. 

Run 7. Tours — Orleans — Versailles: 144 miles. 

Miles from 
Tours. 

Tours 

Blois 37 

Beaugency 57 

Orleans 74 

Angerville 103 

Dourdan 120 

Versailles 144 

Note. — Fine roads. The chateauz of Amboise, Blois and 
Chambord are either on or near this route. If they are visited 
en route, the trip should be broken at Orleans (Hotel Moderne, 
37 Rue de la Republique, free garage, comfortable, and not 
dear). In Orleans, see house of Joan of Arc, on Rue du 
Tabour. In Versailles, the Hotel des Reservoirs, close to the 
Palace, with free garage, is expensive, but good. Versailles 
is only 11 miles from Paris, and may be visited as an outing 
from the capital, instead of stopping there at the end of the 
run from Tours. 



Appendix 397 

Run 8. Paris — Rheims: 100 miles. 

Miles from 
Paris. 

Paris 

Joinville-le-Pont 4 

Meaux 30 

La Ferte-sous- Jouarre 42 

Charly-sur-Marne 50 

Chateau-Thiery 60 

Rheims 100 

Note. — Roads excellent; picturesque country, through the 
scene of Napoleon's desperate efforts to drive back the allied 
invaders in 1814. The Hotel du Nord, Rheims, with free gar- 
age, is inexpensive, and reasonably good. 

Run 9. Rheims— Metz — Nancy: 153 miles. 

Miles from 
Rheims. 

Rheims 

Chalons 27 

Ste. Menehould 53 

Verdun 79 

Mars-la-Tour 104 

Vionville (German Customs) 106 

Metz 118 

Corny (French Customs) 127 

Pont-a-Mousson 136 

Nancy 153 

Note. — Rolling country; fine roads; in part, the route taken 
by Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI in their flight from Paris, 
June, 1791. In Ste. Menehould, see stone house at No. 8 
Avenue Victor Hugo, where the royal fugitives were recognized 
by old Dragoon Druet. Between Verdun and Metz, melancholy 
reminders of the great battles of 1870; thousands of graves 
of German and French soldiers dot the fields on both sides 
of the road. Metz to Nancy, 35 miles, up the beautiful Moselle 
Valley. In Nancy, Hotel de l'Univers (garage 40 cents) 
charged us $4 for a double room; exposition prices; usual 
rate, $2. 



398 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Run 10. Nancy — Strasbourg: 91 miles. 

Miles from 
Nancy. 

Nancy 

Vic (German frontier) 18 

Sarrebourg 47 

Saverne 65 

Strasbourg 91 

Note. — Roads fine to German frontier, then "good" (in a 
German, not a French sense). In Strasbourg, the Palace 
Hotel Maison Rouge, Kleberplatz, with garage, is good, and 
not overly dear. 

Run 11. Strasbourg — Baden-Baden — Stuttgart: 108 miles. 

Miles from 
Strasbourg. 

Strasbourg 

Baden-Baden 47 

Stuttgart 108 

Note. — Roads not so wide or smooth as in France, but fine 
in comparison with American roads. At Baden-Baden, halt 
several hours, if not a day, to see the life and beautiful sur- 
roundings of that German spa. Stuttgart, a handsome city, 
deserves a visit. 

Run 12. Stuttgart — Ulm— Augsburg — Munich: 158 miles. 

Miles from 
Stuttgart. 

Stuttgart 

Cannstadt 3 

Goeppingen 26 

Kuchen 37 

Ulm 60 

Giinzburg 79 

Augsburg 113 

Munich 158 

Note. — Picturesque run, over good roads, along base of 
Hohenstaufen Mountains, through occasional dense pine for- 



Appendix 399 

ests. At Giinzburg, the beautiful "Blue" Danube is rather 
yellow. Ulm and Augsburg both well worth seeing. The 
44 miles from Augsburg to Munich are over flat, uninteresting 
country. In Munich, Hotel Rheinischerhoff, near Central Rail- 
way Station, with free garage, good, and inexpensive. 

Run 13. Munich — Eichstadt— Nuremberg: 112 miles. 

Miles from 
Munich. 

Munich ° 

Ingolstadt 48 

Eichstadt 67 

Nuremberg 112 

Note.— Interesting run, over good roads; occasionally pass 
through delightfully cool, shady forests. 

Run 14. Nuremberg— Frankfort A/M: 167 miles. 

Miles from 
Nuremberg. 

Nuremberg 

Ansbach 27 

Rothenburg 48 

Wurzburg 86 

Aschaffenburg 129 

Frankfort A/M 167 

N 0te — Exce iient roads; picturesque scenery up the valley 
of the Main. For 20 miles before reaching Aschaffenburg the 
route is through a dense forest and wild animal preserve, 
owned by the King. In Frankfort, the Hotel Prinz Heinrich, 
with garage, is fair, and not dear. Fastidious motorists 
should go to the Frankforter Hof. 

• Run 15. Frankfort— Bingen— Trier: 116 miles. 

Miles from 
Frankfort. 

Frankfort ° 

Mainz 20 



400 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Bingen 42 

Berncastel 88 

Trier 116 

Note. — Roads excellent; fine view of the Rhine. After 
Bingen, ascend Moselle Valley, around and over high hills 
topped by many ancient castles, looking down upon the 
Moselle, far below — one of the prettiest runs in Germany. 
At Trier the Hotel Porta Nigra, opposite the ancient Roman 
arch of that name, is good and inexpensive; garage, half a 
block away, 50 cents. 

Run 16. Trier— Rheims: 147 miles. 

Miles from 
Trier. 

Trier 

Langlaville (French Customs) 45 

Stenay 87 

Vouziers 114 

Rheims 147 

Note. — Fine roads; picturesque, hilly, rolling country; part 
of the run is through the Duchy of Luxemburg. 

Run 17. Rheims— Langres: 140 miles. 

Miles from 
Rheims. 

Rheims 

Chalons-sur-Marne 27 

Vitry-le-Francois 49 

Saint Dizier 67 

Joinville 90 

Chaumont 115 

Langres 140 

Note. — Excellent roads, through picturesque country. At 
Chalons, see field of the battle of Chalons, now an exercising 
field of the French army. Road continues up the valley of 
the Marne to top of a hill 1,600 feet high, on which is the 
picturesque, fortified city of Langres. Grand Hotel (free 
garage), good, and cheap. 



Appendix 401 

Run 18. Langres — Lausanne: 142 miles. 

Miles from 
Langres. 

Langres 

Champlitte 22 

Gray 35 

Besancon '63 

Ornans 79 

Pontarlier 100 

Les Hopitaux-Neufs (French frontier) Ill 

Baillaignes (Swiss frontier) 116 

Cassonay 131 

Lausanne 142 

Note. — The country, picturesque around Langres, becomes 
mountainous as Switzerland is neared. The fine road ascends 
a beautiful valley flanked by high mountains, and finally en- 
ters a narrow defile. After crossing the Swiss frontier the 
scenery grows still grander, but the road seems rough and 
rutty after the smooth highways of France. In Lausanne, 
the Hotel Royal, modern, with every convenience, charged 
us $6 a day (for two) for room and bath (looking out on 
Lake Geneva), and full "pension"; garage, three blocks away, 
40 cents a day. Make Lausanne headquarters for some days, 
during which country around Lake Geneva may be explored. 
To Geneva, and back, 80 miles, over fine road along lake, and 
through several towns of picturesque and historic interest. 
To Vevey, and back, 24 miles, along lake. To Yverdon, at 
head of Lake Neuchatel, 40 miles, there and back, over good 
road; superb view of Lake Geneva from high hill climbed 
just after leaving Lausanne. If time permits, continue from 
Yverdon, along northern shore of Lake Neuchatel, to Neu- 
chatel, 23 miles beyond Yverdon, 43 miles from Lausanne. 

Run 19. Lausanne — Lucerne: 120 miles. 

Miles from 
Lausanne. 

Lausanne 

Savigny 6 

Romont 23 

Fribourg 40 

Flamatt 51 



402 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Miles from 
Lausanne. 

Wangen 56 

Berne '62 

Langnau 82 

Schuepf heim 96 

Wolhusen 106 

Malters 112 

Lucerne 120 

Note.— Good roads; fine scenery. Stops should be made 
in Fribourg and Berne. 

Run 20. Lucerne — Bellinzona: 109 miles. 

Miles from 
Lucerne. 

Lucerne 

Vitznau 16 

Brunnen 24 

Fluelen 31 

Armsteg 42 

Goeschenen 52 

Andermatt 55 

Summit of St. Gothard Pass 58 

Airolo 74 

Biasca 95 

Bellinzona 109 

Note. — One of the finest runs in Europe. First part of the 
trip is along Lake Lucerne's shores, over the celebrated Axen 
Strasse; then a mile-high climb to the summit of the St. 
Gothard; then a descent through a wild gorge to Bellinzona, 
on beautiful Lake Maggiore. Good roads, but many sharp 
turns and stiff grades. Automobiles are not permitted to 
leave Goeschenen, to cross the St. Gothard, except between 
the hours of 5 and 8 a.m. and 7 and 9 p.m. As it is unde- 
sirable to cross in the night, and as it is difficult to make 
Goeschenen before 9 a.m., the best plan is to stop in Goes- 
chenen over night. Be careful to get up early the next morn- 
ing. Should you start only one minute after eight o'clock, 
you will be halted at the entrance to the pass and forced to 
wait until 7 p.m. A pass (40 cents) to cross the St. Gothard 
must be obtained from the police station in Goeschenen. 



Appendix 403 



Run 21. Bellinzona — Simplon — Brieg— Sion: 118 miles. 

Miles from 
Bellinzona. 

Bellinzona 

Locarno 12 

Intragna 22 

Ste. Maria 34 

Domo d'Ossola 44 

Gondo ( Swiss frontier) 53 

Brieg 84 

Tourtemagne 99 

Sierre 101 

Sion 118 

Note. — This run vies with that over the St. Gothard. Be- 
fore ascending the Simplon, a pass ($1.00) must be obtained 
from the Swiss police, at Gondo. The arrival at Brieg must 
be not less than 4V 2 hours later than the departure from 
Gondo. If the pass be crossed in less than 4 1 / £ hours a fine 
will be imposed by the police at Brieg. During July and 
August, automobiles may cross the Simplon on any day, ex- 
cept Thursday; during June, September and October, the pass 
is forbidden to motorists on Mondays, Thursdays and Satur- 
days. Take care not to arrive at Gondo on one of the for- 
bidden days, or you will have a 24-hour wait in a squalid vil- 
lage (poor inn). 

Run 22. Sion— Geneva: 83 miles. 

Miles from 
Sion. 

Sion 

Martigny 18 

St. Maurice 28 

Evian 56 

Thonon 63 

Geneva 83 

Note. — Fine road, down the valley of the Rhone, between 
two chains of magnificent mountains. Greater part of the 
55 miles from St. Maurice to Geneva is along Lake Leman's 
shores, one of the most beautiful motor runs in Switzerland. 
You enter France just before entering Evian, and re-enter 



404 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Switzerland a little later, when nearing Geneva. In Geneva, 
the Hotel de la Poste (garage, two blocks distant, 40 cents) 
charged us $1.30 a day for comfortable room overlooking lit- 
tle park; excellent dinner, with wine, 70 cents. Have brakes 
examined in Geneva; after descending mountain passes they 
are likely to need adjusting, and it is dangerous to motor in 
Switzerland if brakes are not in perfect condition. 

Run 23. Geneva — Chamonix — Geneva: 104 miles. 

Miles from 
Geneva. 

Geneva 

Annemasse 5 

Bonneville 15 

Cluses 24 

Sallanches 35 

Chamonix 52 

Geneva (return via same route) 104 

Note. — Superb scenery, but road only fair. Watch for 
French Customs House in outskirts of Geneva, before reach- 
ing Annemasse. The French officials here do not look out 
for you (Chamonix is in a "free zone"), and if your triptyque 
is not viseed as you pass out of Switzerland you will have 
difficulty in re-entering Switzerland on the return from Cha- 
monix. There is so much to see in Chamonix, that unless 
pressed for time a stop should be made there and the return 
to Geneva postponed for several days. 

Run 24. Geneva— Grenoble: 93 miles. 

Miles from 
Geneva. 

Geneva 

Cruseilles (French frontier) 12 

Annecy 27 

Aix-les-Bains 47 

Chambery 57 

Les Echelles 71 

Saint Laurent-Du-Pont 75 

Voreppe 84 

Grenoble 93 



Appendix 405 

Note. — Fine roads, through interesting and historic places. 
From Chambery it is 15 minutes' ride, up steep road, to Les 
Charmettes, Rousseau's home; from St. Laurent-Du-Pont, a 
2,000-foot climb through a wild gorge brings you to the 
monastery of the Grande Chartreuse. What with these side 
trips to Les Charmettes and the Grande Chartreuse, stops in 
Aix-les-Bains, etc., this run of 93 miles may profitably be 
divided into two stations: At Les Echelles, the Hotel Durand 
(free garage) is cheap, and fairly comfortable; at Grenoble, 
the Hotel Central (garage) is unpretentious and inexpensive, 
but fairly good. 

Run 25. Grenoble — Nice: 207 miles. 

Miles from 
Grenoble. 

Grenoble 

Monestir-de-Clerment 21 

Laragne 78 

Sisteron 89 

Digne 115 

Vergons 147 

Entrevaux 162 

Puget-Theniers 167 

Nice 207 

Note. — One of the nnest runs in France; superb road, amid 
grand mountain scenery. The sparsely settled country, with 
its wild gorges and few-and-far-between towns, reminds one 
of the Rocky Mountain country of Colorado. Entrevaux is 
an extraordinarily located town. On the whole 207-mile run, 
no town with as many as 5,000 population, and few with more 
than 200 to 500. If run is broken at all, stop at Digne (popu- 
lation, 4,600), at Hotel Remusat (free garage), cheap, and 
not uncomfortable. Nice is full of hotels, many of which, 
however, are only open from December 1 to May 31. The 
Hotel d'Angleterre, open from September to June, with free 
garage, is first class; room, $2; dinner, $1.40. The Hotel de 
l'Univers, a modest inn, open all the year (garage within two 
blocks, 60 cents), is fairly good; room, $1; dinner, 80 cents. 
Make Nice headquarters from which to start on a number of 



406 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

short runs along the Mediterranean and back into the moun- 
tains. 

Run 26. Nice — Genoa: 130 miles. 

Miles from 
Nice. 

Nice 

Monte Carlo 12 

Menton 18 

Vintimille (Italian frontier) 2'6 

San Remo 37 

Oneglia 53 

Savona 100 

Genoa 130 

Note. — One of the finest runs in the world. On nearly the 
■whole 130 miles the sea is to the right, while on the left is a 
succession of beautiful gardens, lovely villas and interesting 
towns, and just beyond them a chain of lofty mountains: 
Whatever other run be omitted, this one should surely be 
included. From Nice to Monte Carlo take the upper Corniche 
road, for sake of the unparalleled view. 

Run 27. Genoa — Spezia — Pisa — Florence: 170 miles. 

Miles from 
Genoa. 

Genoa 

Spezia 68 

Pisa 115 

Florence 170 

Note. — Roads fairly good; first 60 miles through many tun- 
nels and up and down high mountains; Spezia to Pisa, road 
level, but rough and rutty. Rule of the road frequently 
changes; now it is "Turn to the right," and half an hour 
later it is "Turn to the left"; on meeting vehicles caution 
necessary, as there is no way of knowing what the rule is, and 
whether an approaching vehicle will turn to the right or left. 
In Florence, the Hotel Alia Stella d'ltalia is cheap, and fairly 
good (free garage); bargaining advisable. 



Appendix 407 

Run 28. Florence — Orvieto: 124 miles. 

Miles from 
Florence. 

Florence 

Siena 43 

Monte Oliveto 56 

San Quirico 82 

Radicafani 94 

Acquapendente 101 

Bolsena 110 

Orvieto 124 

Note. — Roads mountainous, but good; very stiff climb to 
Radicafani. Monte Oliveto, 5 miles off main road (turn just 
before reaching village of Buonconvento), is perched on a 
mountain; splendid view and interesting old monastery. From 
Bolsena, turn left, up very steep hill; at 10 miles descend 
mountain into valley, and climb steep road to top of huge 
rock on which Orvieto stands. In Orvieto, Hotel delle Belle 
Arti (with room for one automobile), good, and cheap. 

Run 29. Orvieto — Rome: 72 miles. 

Miles from 
Orvieto. 

Orvieto 

Montefiascone 15 

Viterbo 25 

Ronciglione 67 

Rome 72 

Note. — Road to Montefiascone fine, but steep upgrade; 
splendid view from Montefiascone down upon Lake Bolsena, 
1,000 feet below. South from Viterbo, 1,400-foot climb to edge 
of cliff rising above beautiful little volcanic lake; through 
Roman Campagna, over a succession of hills and valleys, across 
the Tiber into Rome. 

Run 30. Rome— Naples: 164 miles. 

Miles from 
Rome. 

Rome 

Velletri 23 



408 Seeing Europe by Automobile 

Miles from 
Rome. 

Terracina 63 

Fondi 71 

Formia 89 

Itri 109 

Capua 140 

Naples 164 

Note. — This route, the better of the two roads between 
Rome and Naples, is over the Appian Way, through the cele- 
brated Pontine Marshes, along the Mediterranean. Many his- 
toric spots passed. At Itri, Cicero was murdered, in Decem- 
ber, B.C. 43. The road is fairly good. 

Run 31. Naples — Amalfi — Naples: 109 miles. 

Miles from 
Naples. 

Naples 

Pompeii 15 

Sorrento 34 

Amalfi 54 

Vietri 67 

Cava 69 

Pagini 75 

Torre Annunziata 92 

Torre del Greco 97 

Naples 109 

Note. — One of the finest drives in Italy, vying with that 
from Nice to Genoa. For many miles the road winds along 
the face of lofty mountains, sometimes a sheer thousand feet 
above the sea. If time permits, the run should be continued 
to Salerno and to the ruins of Paestum. (From Vietri, instead 
of turning back toward Naples, continue south 4 miles to 
Salerno, thence 18 miles, over fair road, to Paestum.) The 
Temple of Neptune, at Paestum, in a much better state of 
preservation than the Parthenon at Athens, is one of the 
noblest monuments of the ancient Greeks. Including the trip 
to Paestum, the run from Naples back to Naples is about 155 
miles, too much for one day's travel, including sight-seeing. 



Appendix 400 

On return from Paestum do not stop at Salerno (indifferent 
inns) but proceed to Cava, 6 miles beyond Salerno, on road 
to Naples, and stop at Albergo di Londra (Hotel Vittoria 
also said to be fair). 

West from Naples the good road to Posilipo, 
Pozzuoli and Cumae affords superb views of the 
beautiful Bay of Naples; this, and several other 
charming half-day excursions, may be made out 
of Naples. 



INDEX 



PAGE 

Acquapendente 317 

Adventure in Augsburg 186 

Midnight, in Versailles. . . 99 

of the dill pickle 235 

of Henri Farman, in aero- 
plane 151 

of the triptyque 224 

with the German Baron. . . 219 
Aeroplane Week in Rheims.. 227 

Race with 150 

Agrippina : Place where mur- 
dered by Nero 327 

Airolo 258 

Airships, in Frankfort a/M. . 218 

in Rheims 227 

Albania, Coast of 369 

Albergo Cocumella 331 

Amalfi, Road to 332 

Amboise, Chateau of 89 

Andermatt 257 

Andorra, Republic of 280 

Angers, Chateau of 78 

Hotel in 78 

Almeria ( Spain) 388 

Antivari 388 

Appian Way 322 

Arc, Joan of : Spot where 

burned in Rouen 28 

Home of, in Orleans 96 

Honors to, in Rouen 29 

Arrest of author in Paris... 38 

Attilla, at Chalons 148 

Augsburg, Adventure in 186 

Austria, Empress Elizabeth of 365 
Auto accessories needed on 

foreign tour 350 

Automobile, Cost of shipping 

abroad 339 

Cost of renting in Europe. 344 
How to estimate cost of 
freight on 342 



PAGE 

Automobiles, French duty on. 9 

Insurance 352 

How to get French permit 

to drive 9 

Words and phrases, in 

French 354 

Aviation, Interest in, in 

France 68 

Week of, in Rheims 226 

Avranches 67 

Baden-Baden 174 

Baedeker, Mistaken for agent 

of 58 

Influence of, with hotel- 
keepers 58 

Barcelona 302 

Bad 388 

Baron, 'German, Adventure 

with 219 

Bastile, Place de la 41 

Bastile, Tragic episode of... 42 

Battlefields of 1870 160 

Bauli 327 

Bazaar of Skodra 386 

Bellinzona 260 

Berlin, Growth of 196 

Berncastel, Road to 222 

Besangon 244 

Bingen-on-Rhine 221 

Bleriot's flight across English 

Channel 68 

Blois, Chateau of 92 

Bolsena 317 

Brieg 267 

Brindisi 359 

Brummel, Beau, Grave of, in 

Caen 62 

Bayeux, Tapestry of 64 

Byron, in the Salanches Inn 269 

Statue of, in Corfu 363 

The Poet of Democracy . . . 364 
411 



412 



INDEX 



PAGE 

Caen 62 

Campagna, Roman 320 

Capua 326 

Castellamare 330 

Castillon, Deserted town of.. 279 
Catherine ae Medici, Poison 

Cabinet of 03 

Cattaro. Boche di 373 

Town of 374 

Cetinje, Motor trip to 374 

City of 379 

Chalons-sur-Marne 239 

Chalons, Field of 146 

Battle of 147 

Chambery 115 

Road to, from Les Eschells 2G9 

Chambord, Chateau of 94 

Champagne caves in Rheims. 144 
Chamonix, Trip to, from 

Geneva 268 

Charmettes, Les 108, 117 

Chateaubriand, Tomb of.... 73 

Chateau Thierry 143 

Chateau of Amboise 89 

Angers 78 

Blois 92 

Chenonceau 82 

Chambord 94 

Fontainebleau 48 

Loches 85 

Versailles 98 

Chauffeur, Disadvantage of 

having a 337, 349 

Chenonceau, Chateau of . . . . 82 

Cicero, Place of exile of 368 

Where murdered 326 

Cocumella, Hotel 331 

Corday, Charlotte 62 

Corfu 362 

Cost of hotels to motorists. . 356 
Average daily, of the Get- 
There 356 

Traveling in Normandy... 66 
Curtiss, Glenn, Victory of, in 

Rheims 232 

Dalmatia, Coast of 369 

Digne 275 

Dill pickle, Adventure of the. 235 



PAGE 

Diocletian, Palace of, in Spa- 

lato 370 

Dives 59 

Domo d'Ossola 263 

Dreyfus, in Rennes 76 

Durazzo 368 

Entrevaux 277 

Eugenie, Empress, in Paris.. 133 
Farman, Aviator, Adventure 

of 151 

Florence 312 

Fondi 325 

Fontainebleau, Napoleon at. 48 

Forest of 52 

Queen Christina at 50 

Road from, to Paris 52 

Forest of Fontainebleau 52 

Bavarian King 216 

Germany 184 

Frankfort a/M, Growth of. . 195 

Airship exposition of 217 

Old house of the Roths- 
childs in 220 

French, Automobile terms in. 354 
Garage, Cost of storing in.. 347 
Gasoline, Cost of, in Europe. 348 
Amount of, consumed by 

the Get-There 348 

Cost of, in Paris 35 

Cost of, Rome to Naples . . 326 

Cost of, in Europe 21 

More costly than wine and 

beer 21 

Tax on, in Europe 21 

Tax on, in Paris 35 

Tax on, in Italy 303 

Geneva, Lake, Historical as- 
sociations of 249 

Geneva, Trip to, from Lau- 
sanne 249 

Genoa 306 

German Baron, Adventure 

with 219 

German cities, Growth of . . . . 195 
German frontier, Crossing the 161 
An American's mishap in 
crossing 162 



INDEX 



413 



PAGE 

Germany, Growth of 197 

Advance of Liberalism in. 203 

Forests of 184, 216 

Getting an auto into 137 

Get-There, The, Description 

of 31 

French duty on 9 

Itineraries of 393 

Landing of, Havre 8 

Makes 50 miles an hour. . 56 

Gibraltar 1 

Goeschenen 255 

Gondo 265 

Grande Chartreuse, Monas- 
tery of 271 

Gravelotte 164 

Grenoble, Road from, to Nice 274 
Gunzburg, Quarterly fair in 183 

Havre, Arrival in 5 

Hotel Frascati, in 13 

in 1788 6 

Hannibal 326, 360 

Horace on Via Appia 325 

Road to Brindisi 359 

Hotels, Cost of, to motorists, 

in Europe 356 

Hugo, Victor, Statue of, in 

his birthplace 244 

Insurance on automobiles... 352 

Italy, Trip in, begun 303 

Crossing frontier of, near 

Palanza 261 

Crossing frontier of, near 

Ventimiglia 303 

Roads in 310 

Itri 326 

Kuchen fabrik 175 

Lake Geneva, from St. Mau- 
rice to Geneva 268 

Langres 240 

Our hotel in 241 

Lausanne, Road to 248 

Excursions from 250 

Levee de la Loire 79 

Loches, Chateau of 85 

Louis XI, Cruelty of 87 

Louis XIV, "Shade of," Ad- 
venture with 102 



PAGE 

Lucerne 252 

Road from, over St. Goth- 

ard Pass 253 

Road to, from Lausanne.. 251 

Luxemburg, Duchy of 225 

Main, Up valley of 213 

Malmaison, Napoleon at 45 

Maps needed on motor trip 

abroad 351 

Marne, Up valley of 240 

Mars le Tour 160 

Maxwell automobile 349 

Metaponto 360 

Metz 168 

Mirabeau, Tomb of 108 

Montefiascone 319 

Montenegro, King of 380 

Monte Oliveto, Monastery of. 315 

Mont St. Michel 69 

Moselle, Up Valley of... 168, 222 
Motor trip abroad, Total cost 

of 346 

Munich, Art galleries of 199 

Beer life of 198 

Growth of 195-197 

Road from, to Nuremberg. 204 

Nancy 169 

Naples 326 

Napoleon at Fontainebleau. . 48 

at Malmaison 45 

at Digne 275 

before Grenoble 276 

on road to Austerlitz 181 

on road to Ulm 178 

Greatness of 277 

Second funeral of 135 

Tomb of 44 

Nero, Mother of, place where 

murdered 327 

Nice, Trips out of, in the 

Get-There 278 

Normandy, Prosperity of peo- 
ple of 18 

Cost of motoring in 66 

Old windmill of 21 

Poverty of, in 1788 19 



414 



INDEX 



PAGE 

Nuremberg, Bratwurst Gloek- 

lein, in 205 

Castle of 208 

Growth of 19G 

Road from, to Rothenburg. 210 

Octroi tax 21 

Injustice of 31 

on gasoline entering Paris. 35 

of Rheims 143 

of Tours 88 

Orleans 96 

Orvieto 318 

Paris, Arrival in 35 

Author's arrest in 38 

Crossing boulevards of . . . . 40 
Motoring on boulevards of 37 

Tax on gasoline 35 

Pass, The St. Gothard 257 

The "Curly" 260 

The Simplon 266 

Pavilion Henri IV, St. Ger- 
main 54 

Picture post cards, Mania for 74 

Pisa 310 

Incident on Leaning Tower 

of 311 

Pompeii 332 

Pontine marshes 323 

Pozzuoli 327 

Puncture, The Get-There's 

first 242 

Radicafani 317 

Ragusa 371 

Rennes 75 

Revolution, Episode of the, 

in Rennes 77 

Rheims, Aviation Week in.. 226 

Arrival in 143 

Champagne caves of 144 

Dill pickle adventure in... 235 
Rhine, Lunch on banks of . . . 221 
Road to Chalons — Langres. . 239 

Florence — Siena 315 

Geneva — Les Charmettes. . 112 

Genoa — Spezzia 308 

Grenoble — Nice 274 

Havre — Rouen 16 

Lausanne 248 

Lausanne — Lucerne 251 



PAGH 

Road to Naples — Amalfi — 

Salerno 330 

Naples — Brindisi 359 

Nice — Genoa 303 

Paris — Fontainebleau .... 52 

Paris — Rheims 142 

Rouen — Paris 34 

Paris — Trouville 54 

Siena — Rome 316 

Pisa — Florence 312 

Spezzia — Pisa 310 

Switzerland 247 

Trouville — Avranches .... 59 

Verdon — Metz 166 

Roads in Corfu 362 

Effect of rain on, in France 66 
French, compared with Ger- 
man 183 

French, Traveling stores on 97 
Swiss, compared with 

French 247 

Napoleon III, on 149 

Road, The finest in France.. 16 

Roman Campagna 320 

Rome 321 

Imperial, Last victory of. . 146 

Ronciglione 319 

Rouen, Road to, from Havre 15 

Ancient inn in 26 

Curious bridge in 24 

Fish market of 30 

Sights of 32 

Spot in, where Joan of Arc 

was burned 28 

Rousseau, A day with 108 

Empty tomb of 109 

Home of, with Mme. de 

Warrens 114 

Statue of, in Geneva Ill 

Strange character of 127 

Rothenburg 210 

Meisterdrank festival of. . 212 

Road from, to Wurzburg. . 213 

"Runs" of the Get-There... 393 

St. Germain, Breakfast in.. 54 

View of Paris from 55 

St. Gothard Pass, Road to, 

from Lucerne 253 

Auto rules in crossing.... 256 



INDEX 



415 



PAGE 

St. Gothard Pass, Descent 

of 258 

Summit of 258 

St. Malo 72 

Ste. Menehould 157 

Saumur, Cavalry exercises at 79 
"Schmierkase," Adventure of 

the 187 

Scutari, Lake of 382 

Seine, Up the valley of the. . 17 
Shelley, Place where drowned 309 

San Quirico 316 

Siena 315 

Simplon, Pass of the 266 

Siren, Electric, installed on 

the Get-There 56 

Skodra 383 

Sorrento 330 

Sospello 278 

Spain 302, 388 

Speedometer 391 

Spalato 370 

Spezzia 309 

Steuerkarten (entering Ger- 
many) 162 

Strasburg 173 

Stuttgart 174 

Switzerland, Crossing into.. 246 
Tacitus' description of Agrip- 

pina's murder 328 

Tarranto 361 

Terracina 324 

Tires, Cost of, in France 338 

Duty on, when entering 

France 303 

Large, Advantage of having 243 
Touring Club de France, Ad- 
vantage of membership 
in 140 



PAGE 

Toura 79 

Our hotel in 82 

Trajan, Column of 136 

Tramp Trip, Scenes of, re- 
visited 175 

Twenty-fifth anniversary of 2 

Treves, Porta Nigra in 224 

Triptyque, Adventure of the 224 
Triptyques, Convenience of. . 140 

Trouville 57 

Turkey, Arrival in 383 

Ulm, Road to 178 

Valmy, Pyramid on hill of. . 154 

Vendome, Column of 135 

Verdun 160 

Versailles, Midnight adven- 
ture in 99 

Vesuvius 331 

Via Appia 322 

Column at end of 361 

Villetri 323 

Virpazzar 388 

Volanta 368 

Voltaire, Empty tomb of 109 

Warrens, Mme. de 118 

William the Conqueror, Inn 

of 59 

Tomb of 63 

Wxirzburg 215 

Road from, to Frankfort 

a/M 216 

Young, Arthur, in Alsace.. 172 

Chateau of Blois 94 

Havre 6 

in Besancon 244 

in Brittany 71 

Les Charmettes 125 

Normandy 19 

on ignorance in France... 245 
Rennes 75 



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